


An Illiterate Bastard

by IneffableBastard



Series: An Illiterate Bastard [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman - Fandom
Genre: Aziraley, Aziraphale x Crowley - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Neil Gaiman - Freeform, Other, Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Smut, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), aziracrow, crowley x aziraphale, good omens - Freeform, ineffable boyfriends, ineffable husbands, mlm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableBastard/pseuds/IneffableBastard
Summary: Fluffy and full of a bastard angel and a nice demon (not Role Reversal) being oblivious, ridiculous and cute. May or may not get smutty, I haven't decided yet!EDIT: IT GOT SMUTTY





	1. An ineffable Intro

**Author's Note:**

> I switch between Crowley and Aziraphale's POV every so often, but this first chapter isn't either one's POV. Also this chapter is an intro, a little taster if you will, which is why it is quite short.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The intro... in which Crowley tries to be cool, and Aziraphale teases him for it...

"Oh!!" Aziraphale exclaimed, scrunching his nose in annoyance. Crowley looked up from his newspaper from across the room, peering over the top of his glasses at the angel sat glaring at his new mobile phone at the table. He glanced over and saw Crowley’s quizzical eyebrows. "It’s just this silly autocorrect! It will insist on changing my name to "airshow" or "adorable"! It really is quite infuriating!"   
Crowley smirked, "I don’t use autocorrect"  
"Alright, you show off" Azirphale tutted.  
"I own my mistakes, like the illiterate bastard I am" came Crowley’s reply, the smirk widening.   
"Feeling dramatic today dear?"   
Crowley’s smirk turned into a scowl. "Me?? Dramatic??? I am NEVER dramatic!!" But as he said this he failed his arms so dramatically the movement made his glasses fall off. "My dear, you are quite possibly THE most dramatic being I have ever met" Aziraphale smiled, affectionately. Crowley leant forward to retrieve his glasses then settled back into the sofa grumpily, muttering "I’m not dramatic, you’re dramatic" and crossing his arms. He left the glasses off though. "I thought it was cool, like something Shakespeare would have said! Or someone smart, like Stephen Hawking!"   
"My dear boy, that is most definitely not something either of those people who have said.”  
"It’s not the words, it’s all in the delivery! The message!" His arms where failing again. Aziraphale shook his head.  
"Don’t be upset with me, it was quite funny and you sounded very convincing. Now do be a dear and help me turn off this autocorrect, you know I’m no good with these new fangled things" he motioned at the phone on the table in front of him.   
"Shan’t" Crowley crossed his arms and flicked his snake tongue out, before lifting his paper back up, pretending to read it.  
"Oh you are a terrible sport", Aziraphale rose from his chair, and crossed the space between them, lowering himself delicately onto the sofa next to Crowley, who side eyed him curiously.   
"Please? My dear?" Crowley went as crimson as his hair at the soft, almost sultry tone of Aziraphales’ voice. He was reminded of the night they saved the world, just a week ago.


	2. You Can Stay at My Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's POV. His shy and the cool as a cucumber thing is all an act, okay? He's a hopeless nerd.  
We've skipped back in time by a week from the intro, so it's the night of the Not-ocalpyse, the Armadeggdon't, or whatever you prefer to call it!

"You can stay at my place if you like" the words had left his mouth before he could stop himself.   
"I don’t think my side would like that" came Aziraphales’ reply, as if he hadn’t fully registered what his actions today truly meant. "You don’t have a side anymore, neither of us do. We’re on our own side." Crowleys’ heart skipped; his hands clammy as they waited for the bus.  
They sat next to each other this time. Not Crowley sat behind the angel on the number 19 bus. Next to him. Close enough that their shoulders touched. He couldn’t remember them ever being so close, not even outside the garden, when Aziraphales’ wing had shielded him from the first rain. Unless you counted a few days ago, when Crowley had shoved the angel against the wall. His ears burned at the thought, remembering those brief seconds where their noses had touched, his body pressed against Aziraphales. A glorious few seconds. He tried his best to push it from his mind.  
  
"So, choose your faces wisely? What do you think that means angel?" He asked tentatively, trying to sprawl casually on the small bus seat, his gangly legs too long for the space between seats. "I have an idea, but perhaps we should discuss it at your flat... buses have ears you know". He looked around the bus, furtively, even though there were barely any other passengers. "Buses have ears???" Crowley answered incredulously. "I think you mean people ON the bus, but point taken." No one looked like an angel or a demon, but you never knew, especially not after what they had just done. He tried to look as nonchalant as possible, no small feat when his heart felt as if it would burst from his chest. "So... you staying at my place then angel?" He peered at the angel sitting next to him out of the corner of his eye, glad the dark glasses hid where he was looking."Oh, oh. Well I suppose, if it isn’t too much trouble... but oh my books! My bookshop." The sadness on his face and in his voice almost broke Crowleys’ heart. "It’ll be alright, angel. I’ll help you fix it, s’no trouble. A few little demonic miracles, and you can stay at my place til we have it all sorted" he could feel his face flushing, eager to please, desperate to see Aziraphale smile. He had spent the past 6000 years hinting his feelings, miraculously appearing in the nick of time to save him, making boring plays popular, performing miracles that could see him killed by his own kind, rescuing Aziraphale and his precious books. In the last week he had also begged the angel to run away with him on multiple occasions, and stormed off when Aziraphale had said no. Kind, trusting, stupid, wonderful Aziraphale, and his blind faith in God, and Her ineffable plan. But he had seen Heaven for what it was. He had chosen humanity, chosen Crowley. And Crowley was NOT going to let his chance slip by again.

Aziraphale gave him a weak little smile, but it was all Crowley needed to feel like his heart would burst from his chest. He lent further back in the seat, trying to look as cool and aloof as possible, hoping his cheeks would stay their usual sallow, pale colour instead of giving him away. He wondered what could be going through Aziraphale’s mind. He peeked at the angel, snake eyes shielded by his glasses, but for once Aziraphale was impossible to read, just a vaguely thoughtful expression on his face. _I’ve got to tell him. _Crowley thought. _Tonight. We might have stopped the world ending but if we can’t come up with something... we’ll both cease to exist tomorrow. I have to make sure he knows. Just in case._

He noticed Aziraphale’s eyes darting round, he assumed out of paranoia. Who could blame him? They would probably be looking over their shoulders permanently now. He heard Aziraphale let out a gentle sigh. He must not have seen or felt anything unusual then. _Good _he thought.


	3. Feelings of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale can feel something, just like that night in the Bentley...  
(Aziraphale's POV)

Aziraphale sat as prim and proper as always, Crowley sprawled next to him on his own tiny bus seat. He was going back to Crowley’s place. Of course he knew where Crowley’s flat was, but he had never been inside. It had been too risky before. Crowley’s thigh brushed his, ever so lightly, and Aziraphale felt a jolt of electricity. He thought of his bookshop; the books burnt up, nothing but an empty, ashen husk in the midst of Soho, the lettering above the door warped from the heat, the smell of ash and fire. Then Crowley offered to help fix it. Why would he do that? _Our own side _he thought, anxiously rubbing the inside of his sleeve. It was true now, but had it been true before? What did it mean? It suddenly dawned on him. All those rescues, those “accidental” meetings, the Arrangement, charging into the church all guns blazing despite the pain of walking on consecrated ground, raising Warlock together, “run away with me angel”. Oh. _Oh_. Those flashes of love, the overwhelming weight of feelings he had felt that night in the Bentley. Could it be? No, no. Of course not. He snuck a glance at Crowley, who looked unaffected by everything, as always, spread out nonchalantly, long limbs everywhere.

Aziraphale gently allowed his aura to expand, opening himself up to feelings in the area. He usually kept himself closed off these days, there was simply too much pain and anger and sadness in the world to be walking around soaking it all up like a great angel shaped sponge. Immediately he felt an overwhelming rush of emotion hit him. But it didn’t quite _hit _him. It enveloped him gently, slow at first, then all at once. Pure, raw, unfiltered _love_. All the kinds of love humanity had ever put a name to, and the kinds humans could not, would not, ever comprehend. His eyes darted around, and he forced himself to be more casual, so that Crowley wouldn’t notice that anything was amiss. Not the old lady sat a few rows in front. Not the rather creepy looking gentleman across the aisle. Not the scruffy teenager fast asleep at the back. He looked at Crowley, and blinked, opening his eyes to auras as he did. Oh. _Oh. _It was definitely Crowley. His aura pulsed a million colours, but the dominant colour? Pink. He was deeply in love. _But _Aziraphale thought, _that doesn’t mean he is in love with me. He could be in love with a human. Or maybe the world? _His head swam. He remembered all the times he had pushed Crowley away, said such mean and awful things to try and push his own feelings down. “_You go too fast for me Crowley. We’re not friends! I don’t even like you! What if they found out we’d been fraternizing? You’re a demon Crowley!” _Well, the last part was true, but the more he had learnt about the true nature of the other angels, the more he realised it wasn’t necessarily the worst thing to be. He had said all those things, hurt the demon so deeply that he had even disappeared for almost one hundred years, and yet the way his aura glowed... He opened his own aura up completely and allowed the feelings to wash over him. Oh it was so warm. _Positively delightful _he thought, berating himself for closing himself off for all this time. The love washed over him, embraced him, made him feel so warm and _safe_. He let out a little sigh, involuntarily, but thankfully Crowley didn’t seem to notice.


	4. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wearing marigolds, sexual tension, and a plan that may or may not work. What more could you want?  
(Crowley's POV)

The bus miraculously pulled up right outside Crowley’s flat. It really was the very opposite of Aziraphale’s bookshop; so new, so modern, all glass and concrete and steel. Crowley tried not to shake with anxiety as he unlocked the door. “After you, angel” he croaked, his voice catching in his throat. “Oh, thank you my dear!” Aziraphale beamed, then quickly supressed it as he stepped across the threshold and into the gloom of Crowley’s apartment. Crowley shut the door gently behind him, and clapped his hands together, causing the lights to suddenly turn on. They both stood there, blinking in the dim lights as their eyes adjusted. Crowley had his lights dim on purpose, to avoid straining his sensitive snake-eyes. “Are you quite sure I’m not imposing?” Aziraphale asked suddenly, breaking the awkward silence as they stood in the hallway. “ ‘Course not angel,” came his response, a little gruff. _C’mon Crowley, pull yourself together _he thought sternly. “Let me take you on the grand tour!” he waved his arms dramatically, gesturing in his usual wild way. As they passed the plants in the hallway the plants trembled, and Crowley wondered if Aziraphale had noticed, as he clapped his hands together and loudly proclaimed “oh my, what beautiful plants you have, Crowley!” Crowley swore he saw the plants straighten up with pride.  
“errr, yeah, they’re alright I ‘spose” Crowley tried to look casual, but Aziraphale caught the little gleam of pride flit across Crowley’s face, before he went back to his usual scowl. They approached the study, and Crowley cursed under his breath. Ligur. Or what was left of him, a puddle of clothes and goo in the doorway of the study. “oh my” Aziraphale breathed. “is this... did you? The holy water?” Aziraphale stumbled on his words, concern, disgust, worry, flitting across his face. Crowley nodded. “I told you it wasn’t for me” his brow furrowed and he wondered what Aziraphale thought of him. _He thinks I’m a monster, killing one of my own. He’ll never speak to me again for sure now_. “Well I must say I’m quite glad of that” Aziraphale whispered, looking at Crowley through his lashes.

_Oh God, oh Satan. Why isn’t he disgusted by me? And why is he looking at me like that _Crowley thought. “Are you alright though dear? That must have been quite something to witness” Aziraphale asked, concern written on his face. _I killed a fellow demon, and all he cares about is that I’m okay? _Crowley was so confused, so baffled. “I, err, don’t worry about me angel, I’ll get this cleaned up, it’s fine. I’m fine” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed.  
“No no no, it’s far too risky, the remnants of the holy water can still do you damage, allow me” and before Crowley could reply he had miracled himself a mop, bucket, and a pair of bright yellow marigolds, which he was now putting on, rolling his sleeves up. “Angel, you don’t have to-“ he stopped as Aziraphale looked up from where he was crouching, and flashed Crowley that look. The look that meant he should be quiet, if he knew what was good for him. Crowley suppressed a shudder. He secretly loved those moments when Aziraphale bossed him around. And of course the angel would make even marigolds look attractive. Crowley tried to lean casually against the door frame while he watched Aziraphale carefully clean up the last few bits of Ligur. When he had finished and miracled the mop and bucket away, he straightened up, looking at Crowley expectantly. “Thanks, angel...” He paused, “tea? Wine?” Crowley asked, his hands firmly in his too-small-pockets, trying to hide the shaking. Why had he given the humans the idea for these stupid, tiny pockets anyway? Aziraphale gave him a beautiful smile, and the demon almost discorporated on the spot. “Perhaps a tea, dear? It is quite late after all, and we’ll need clear heads to figure out what we are going to do.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he frowned, and Crowley was overtaken by the desire to kiss those frown lines away, kiss all the way down to his mouth, and keep going down, down... He shook his head a fraction, and turned away from Aziraphale to hide the blush he could feel creeping up his face. “This way, angel.”

Crowley pulled a tall leather and steel stool up to the marble counter in the middle of his kitchen. There was a polished, modern looking glass table with steel and leather chairs set around it, and beyond that a huge modern black sofa, facing a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. There were more plants here, and a set of sliding glass doors, leading out onto a balcony. Everything in the kitchen looked spotless, tasteful, and polished. Crowley flicked the lights on and busied himself making tea, still trying to hide the flushed colour of his cheeks. He could have miracled the kettle to boil, but he needed time to cool down. Aziraphale was here. In his home. Sitting in his kitchen. He could feel the angel’s gaze as he tried to suppress memories of the dreams he had had, of them drinking wine on the balcony, then leaning in for a kiss as they admired the stars, of him making his angel breakfast, both of them still messy haired, morning light pouring in from the glass doors. He drummed his fingers on the worktop restlessly as he waited for the kettle to boil, anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach, mind racing. He made the tea exactly the way the angel liked it, handing it across the counter to him. Their fingers brushed and it was like a jolt of electricity zapped through Crowley, and he tried his best to nonchalantly drape himself on the stool opposite. “So, your idea” Crowley finally broke the silence, watching the angel from across the counter, wishing he could lean across, grab Aziraphale by that cream jacket, and slam their mouths together. _Focus Crowley. Focus. _He thought desperately. _What if we are destroyed tomorrow? What if I never get the chance ever again?_

Aziraphale looked up from his tea. “Ah, yes. Well you see, I was thinking, before, about what our respective sides will do with us. And um, it seems to me that they will probably want to make an example of us, because... well. You know how they love a show.” Crowley nodded.  
“That makes sense, they won’t just throw us in a pit, or lock us away, throw away the key. Metaphorically speaking, o’course.”  
“Exactly. I think that they will try to completely destroy us, in the most showy way possible. A real spectacle. Then I saw the remains of your... of the... other demon in your doorway. It made me think- the only way to completely annihilate a demon is via holy water. And the only way to completely destroy an angel-“  
“Hellfire.” Crowley interrupted, worry deepening the lines etched into his face.  
“Exactly, dear boy. Now Agnes said we should ‘choose our faces wisely’ and that we would be ‘playing with fire.’ ” This was the first time Crowley had ever seen Aziraphale use air quotes. He would have laughed, but the angel looked so serious. “I think... if we assume that she is referring to hellfire, and that you will be facing holy water, then the most logical thing to do is swap appearances. We’ll need to act and sound just like each other to pull it off, but then we will be able to trick both sides.”“So,” Crowley paused. “I would be taken to Heaven and step into hellfire, coming out unscathed, and you would be taken to Hell and have a lovely holy water bath? Do you really think that’ll work?? What if they notice something is off?”  
“They won’t dear, we have known each other for 6000 years. I am most certain we can pull it off. And that would make them think twice before coming after us again!” Aziraphale seemed very certain of himself, as he delicately sipped his tea.  
“Can’t we just, I dunno, run away?” His arms gestured wildly as he said this. “ I could show you the stars, angel. Alpha Centuari is beautiful this time of year!” He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over the counter, towards Aziraphale, unable to hide the desperation in his face. “Crowley,” he set down his cup delicately. “We would spend the rest of eternity running from all the forces of Heaven and Hell. If we can pull this off they will never bother us again. It really is the only option.” His voice was firm. Crowley settled back across the counter.  
“what if we’re wrong? What if something happens, and we never see each other again?” his voice cracked, and behind his glasses he could feel hot tears in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face at any second. “It’s our only chance, Crowley. We have to try.” Aziraphale had a determined look set on his face. “Thank you for the tea dear, it was lovely, exactly how I like it.” Crowley just nodded in return. _I need a drink. _He thought. 

“Are you sure we even _can _switch appearances angel?” Crowley finally asked, breaking a long silence.  
“Oh, yes. Well I _think _so anyway. Should we try now, maybe?” Crowley noticed Aziraphale twitching nervously.   
“Sure angel, what do we do?”  
“I think, we should probably hold hands, and imagine ourselves swapping appearances, and sort of... will it into being. Like when we perform miracles!” He had a wild twinkle in his eye, and he grasped the hand Crowley had placed casually on the counter. Crowley let out the tiniest gasp as he felt Aziraphale’s warm hand envelope his, then thought really hard about how Aziraphale looked, about him _becoming _Aziraphale. Suddenly Aziraphale blurred in front of him, becoming thinner, spikier, dark and angled. He looked down at himself, and saw the soft pale hand, the cream sleeve of Aziraphale’s favourite jacket. He lifted the hand, so familiar yet so alien, to his face feeling his features. He felt soft, so soft. He glanced across the counter, and found his eyes locked into place by his own yellow, slit pupil snake eyes. “Does my hair really stick up quite that much?” Aziraphale asked, nose wrinkling, but it wasn’t coming out of Aziraphales mouth, and it wasn’t Aziraphale’s voice either. “Does my voice really get _that _pitchy?” Crowley asked, but not in his own voice. They both laughed.

“I’m sorry dear but your voice does get like that when you are excited or particularly upset.” Aziraphale answered. “But it worked! We just need to switch like this tomorrow! You can miracle yourself back to my bookshop first thing in the morning, then we will meet as usual in St James Park. I have a feeling they will definitely make their moves tomorrow morning.” Crowley looked at his mirror image, sat prim and proper, positively beaming. He didn’t think he ever sat like that. Or smiled like that, for that matter. “Sounds like a plan, angel. Just... don’t sit like that when you’re me. I _never _sit like that.” Aziraphale nodded, then held out his hand to switch back.


	5. A Souvenir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff, everywhere and not a drop to drink.  
I realise now that that makes no sense, but I'm sticking by it. Another short chapter, this time Aziraphales' POV.

Aziraphale had no trouble conjuring the image of Crowley in his mind as they switched appearances. 6000 years, countless hairstyles, a million fashionable outfits. None of it made an iota of difference. Crowley’s face- every line, every wrinkle, every strand of red hair- was permanently etched into the angels’ mind. Every angle of his body, the sharp nose, his Adams apple, the way his collarbone was always just visible. He opened his eyes to see himself, staring at him intently from across the counter.

They laughed together, before changing back, and it almost felt like nothing had changed. But of course, everything had. Yet here they were, plotting together, just like the night they found out humanity’s days were numbered. He noticed Crowley stifle a yawn. “Are you tired, my dear?”  
“Nah” he yawned again. “Well maybe a bit. We _did _save the world today after all.” He stretched, his shirt riding up a little as he reached his arms up into the air, displaying enough of his hips and flat stomach to make Aziraphales toes curl. “You can take my bed- I’ll sleep on the sofa. Wait you don’t really sleep, do you angel? There’s some books on the shelf over there if you wanted to read instead” he gestured to a rather grand oak bookcase that Aziraphale had somehow failed to notice.

It felt quite out of place amongst the rest of the very modern furniture Aziraphale had seen so far, but he got up and moved towards it mechanically, trying not to think about Crowleys hips. _Oh goodness. Those hips. The things I want to do. Oh no no no. Letting myself be tempted by a demon! What would the other angels think of me? _He thought, before realising he no longer cared. How freeing, and yet terrifying, for someone who had spent 6000 years, their whole existence, trying to give Heaven a good impression. He absent-mindedly ran his hands along the worn-out spines of the books. “20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, Treasure Island, Frankenstein, Les Miserablés, The Portrait of Dorian Gray” he mumbled, reading the titles aloud. “I was quite good friends with Oscar, for a while, you know. Wait, all of the books on this particular shelf are from the 19th century Crowley!” He looked up, puzzled. “I thought you napped that whole century?”

Crowley shrugged. “Woke up a few times, here ‘n there. Had a contact send me any new books he thought I might like.”  
“But you always said you _hated _reading” Aziraphale frowned.   
“O’ course I told _you _that. Didn’t want you thinking I’d gone soft.” What sounded like a chuckle escaped Crowley’s lips. “Pick a book, ‘Ziraphale, and I’ll show you the bedroom.” Aziraphale carefully selected a few worn books, then pursed his lips, frown lines deepening. He needed to think of a way to broach the subject of what he had felt from the demon earlier, but nothing came to mind. They might perish tomorrow, and not just their physical forms, but their very essence, and here he was, completely unsure of what to say to his best friend, his only friend, in the entire world. Unable to think of anything but Crowley and being in his _bedroom._

He followed Crowley out into the hall, and into another. _Wait. Why is that statue so familiar? _He thought, stopping in front of it. An eagle, its wings spread wide, roughly hewn from stone. “Crowley... is that? From the church?”

“Oh. Yeah. That. From the church I saved you from the Nazis in? Yeah. Souvenir.” The demon looked... _Abashed? No surely not. _It was hard to tell in the gloom of the corridor, and Crowley’s glasses obscuring his face. “I had it completely under control you know” Aziraphale huffed. He watched one of the demons eyebrows arch up. “Oh, oh. Of _course!_” a smile played across the demons’ lips, and Aziraphale found it quite frustrating. He found himself thinking about kissing that smirk right off of his face.  
“You were... what was that phrase you used angel? ‘playing them for suckers’?”  
“Oh. I didn’t realise you heard that part.” He replied primly, but he found he couldn’t quite scowl at Crowley properly. All this time he had been in utter denial about his feelings for the demon, and now, faced with complete and utter annihilation all he could think about were all the utterly obscene things he wanted to do. More than that though. He wanted to make sure Crowley knew. Knew that the feeling was mutual, that he _loved _him too. It was time for drastic measures.


	6. Crowley's Room Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could have gotten sexy, if only Crowley wasn't such a sleepy bitch...  
(Crowley's POV)

Crowley opened the bedroom door, gesturing inside. “S’all yours angel. I know it’s not the bookshop, but you’ll be safe here tonight, I promise.” He lent against the door frame, trying to exude nonchalance. He didn’t feel nonchalant in the slightest. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hear the blood rushing through this frail vessel of his. He would finally have the angel in his bedroom, after all this time, and yet here he was, being a gentleman. Aziraphale entered the room, but turned, clutching the books to his chest with a nervous look on his face. Crowley had seen the angel anxious before, but not like this. “It’ll be alright. We have a plan. We’ll pull it off, then everything will fix itself” he tried to sound as reassuring as possible, even though his stomach was twisting itself into knots at the thought of it. And at the thought of Aziraphale naked, tangled up in his slate grey bed sheets. He felt his face flush, and cursed internally. Aziraphale bit his lip. “It’s... it’s not that. Well, it is. But I...” he faltered.  
“Angel?” Crowley’s voice was hesitant, hopeful.  
“If... if this is to be my last night on Earth... well I would rather not be alone, my dear boy. That is to say, you needn’t sleep on the sofa. You could... you could stay here. With me.” The last part came out all in a jumble, and Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes narrowed behind the dark glasses as he tried to fathom what was going through the angels’ head. “Oh. Um. Sure angel, no problem” his voice sounded calmer than he felt, if a little high pitched. He followed Aziraphale into the room, closing the door behind him and flicking on the bedside lamp for the angel to read by. _I have Aziraphale in my bedroom. With me. What do I do now?? _Crowley thought frantically. _He just doesn’t want to be alone in an unfamiliar place that’s all. Don’t read into it Crowley. Don’t spoil this._ The thoughts were coming a mile a minute, and it was all he could do to hold it together. He went to climb into the bed, then noticed Aziraphale taking off his jacket. He folded it ever so carefully, hanging it over the comfy black chair next to the bed, before untying his bowtie and depositing it over the jacket. It was all Crowley could do not to have a heart attack on the spot. “What... what’re you doing, angel?” he croaked.

“Well I might not sleep but I do want to be comfortable, my dear. Don’t tell me you’re sleeping in your jeans?” His nose wrinkled as he said the word jeans and he set his shoes down next to the chair.  
“Well not _normally_ but you’re here” Crowley felt himself blush as he kicked his shoes off. He had been blushing far too much lately. It was going to ruin his demon-y reputation, if saving the world hadn’t already done that. His jacket joined Aziraphales’ coat and waistcoat, over the back of the chair. He wriggled under the covers next to Aziraphale, who was sitting up very straight in just his shirt and trousers, books in his lap, resting on top of the covers.Crowley grabbed a pillow without thinking, gesturing for Aziraphale to lean forwards, slotting the pillow behind the angels’ back. “Oh, thank you!” The angel settled back against the pillow with a little wriggle. Crowley said nothing, just removing his glasses and that little scarf he was so fond of, placing them on the bedside cabinet.

His mind was racing so fast he could barely hold onto a tangible thought. He had so many things he wanted to say to the angel, so so many things. But what to say? How to say it? And he was tired, so very _tired._ He thought about the day he had just had- losing his best friend, using nothing but his imagination to stop himself and his car going up in flames, being reunited with his best friend, literally stopping time, then facing down Satan himself. It really was all too much for one single day. He laid himself flat, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the angel’s warmth beside him. He practically radiated heat, like a sun Crowley couldn’t help but orbit. He heard the angel sigh, the gentle rustle of pages being turned, and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He tried to fight the tiredness in his bones, but before he could say anything he slipped into sleep.


	7. Crowley's Room Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is soft okay?   
(Aziraphales' POV)   
Uploading two chapters in one day because they're both really short, so you're welcome!

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley’s breathing had slowed, and a soft snore came from his direction. Aziraphale had had his chance, and he had wasted it. He would have berated himself, but it wasn’t his fault Crowley had fallen asleep so quickly. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at the demon either. It had been a very trying day; Crowley had probably used every ounce of strength to keep his Bentley together and to stop time.

He looked down at the books in his lap. Frankenstein’s Monster, and The Portrait of Dorian Gray. They felt well loved, and the pages were dog eared, browning, with stains that resembled wine or tea spilled over the years. Funny, that these books had the most feeling attached to them. He wondered if Crowley felt a kinship with the monster, created to be a monster through no fault of his own, doomed to be hunted. Or perhaps the man who sold his soul to the devil, cursed to never age, whilst the people he knew died around him. _Probably both_. The angel thought. Crowley rarely talked about the fall, but Aziraphale got the feeling that Crowley felt it had been unfair. Demon though he was Aziraphale had never felt he was _evil_. Not really.

Said demon rolled over to face Aziraphale. His arms reached out, and finding the angel, latched on to him pulling himself closer to the source of warmth in his sleep. “Angel.” He muttered. Aziraphale felt his face grow hot. “oh, my dear. You love me, don’t you” he said quietly, looking down and gently brushing a lock of red hair out of the demons face. “I love you ‘Ziraphale” Crowley mumbled, nuzzling his face into the angels’ thigh, before snoring gently again. “I love you too, dear boy.”

Aziraphale could feel tears stinging his eyes, threatening to spill. He wanted to hold the demon close, tell him how he felt, press his lips to the demons. But he couldn’t bring himself to wake Crowley. He looked so peaceful, and if he couldn’t tell Crowley how he felt when he was awake, at least he could now, with no consequences. “I love you, and I suppose I always have, even if it took me almost 6000 years to realise it Crowley.” Tears slid down his nose, dripping onto the open pages. He closed the book, set them down on the floor then lowered himself until he was flat on the bed, rolling to his side to face the demon. Aziraphale breathed in the scent of Crowley. He smelt sweet, smoky- like incense but with a touch more burning, like the smell of a wood fire. He closed his eyes, just breathing in that scent. Crowleys’ arms and legs suddenly wrapped around him, making him gasp. “Ziraphale. ‘Ziraphale. Please? Don’t go.” The demon mumbled in his sleep, his head pressing into Aziraphales’ chest, his hair tickling the angels’ nose. “I’m right here, Crowley. I’m not going anywhere.”_I really am quite tired, _the angel found himself thinking, and within seconds he too fell asleep.


	8. The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get steamy...   
Content warning for sexual stuff lads  
(Crowleys' POV)

Crowley had woken up to find Aziraphale lying on his back, a gentle smile on his face to match his gentle snores. He looked up, at the angel’s face, so peaceful, and so very very close to his own. _Aziraphale? Asleep? _He thought, before realising to his surprise that his limbs were tangled up with the angels. His legs draped over Aziraphales’, one of his arms wrapped firmly round the angels’ waist. He felt himself blush a deep red, and very carefully extricated himself from the angel, so as not to wake him. _What happened last night? I remember lying next to Aziraphale... listening to him breathe, and the sound of him turning pages... _he thought, rubbing his head with his knuckles. _Oh no. What if I talked in my sleep?? What if I said something?? Why was I wrapped around him? Did I do that? Did he? _His thoughts were racing. _I love you Crowley. I’m not going anywhere. _Had he dreamed the angel saying that?? He must have. The angel he knew would never say that. After all Crowley had never tried particularly hard to hide his feelings for Aziraphale, and yet the angel had been oblivious to it all, never picked up any of the hints he had not so subtly dropped. He lowered himself back down, lying on his side to regard the angel. He looked so peaceful, so ethereal, so beautiful; with his golden white curls framing his face, his chest moving so rhythmically, those long lashes resting delicately on his cheeks. The demon sighed. He wanted his moment to be etched into his memory forever, just in case. If their plan failed and they both died today at least he could go with this memory in his mind. He reached over and gently rubbed a single curl between his thumb and forefinger, wishing for more but content with this, for now.

_I need a shower. _He thought. True, he could just miracle himself clean, but the sensation of a good shower? Unbeatable. Five minutes later he was under a hot jet of water, thinking about everything at once. He thought of Aziraphale, so peaceful in his bed. He thought of how his limbs had been wrapped around the angels’. How Aziraphales’ shirt had been open enough to peek a little of that golden hair that sprinkled his chest. In the Roman times they had seen each other almost naked all the time in their favourite bathhouses, and in later times they had kissed each other in greeting and in parting, depending on the custom. Had the thought of the angel naked always made his pulse race like this? Had the thought of kissing those soft lips always set him aflame?

Truthfully, he couldn’t remember. But he knew that nothing could compare to these feelings he had right here, right now. He ached for the angel, longed for his touch. He glanced down, the water blurring his vision, noticing the almost painfully hard erection of his human form. He ran his hands down his torso, closing his eyes under the stream of water so that he might pretend they belonged to Aziraphale. He let out a little gasp as his hand wrapped around the length of him, tugging gently. He imagined how Aziraphale might touch him, the feel of his hands. He lent against the shower wall, arching his back, his pace quickening as he thought of the angel, his angel, kissing him, pulling him close.

He hissed, the pleasure building fast as he imagined straddling the angel on his sofa, grinding against him, hands exploring every inch of the angel’s body. His pace grew more frantic, as he remembered thrusting Aziraphale against the wall, how close their bodies had been, before that annoying interruption. Crowley imagined the angel naked, on his knees, gazing up at him through those lashes in adoration as he took Crowley into his mouth. He wondered how soft Aziraphales’ hair would feel bunched up in his hands. Then he remembered bits of what must have been a dream, of Aziraphale whispering softly in his ear “I love you, and I suppose I always have. I’m not going anywhere.” His breathing hitched as he called out the angel’s name, coming hard as he collapsed back against the shower wall, gulping air desperately, like a man half drowned.

When the moment had passed he felt something like shame. Demons were not supposed to feel shame, and yet here he was naked and limp, feeling slightly ashamed at what he had just allowed himself. Of course he needn’t ever tell the angel, and so he would never know. It wasn’t as if it was the first time, either. But somehow having the angel just metres away, in his bed made this feel all the more _sinful._

He pressed his palms into his face, as if he could hide from himself. _My existence could end today, Aziraphales’ existence could end today, and I’ve just had a wank over him in the shower, _he thought. _Fan-fucking-tastic. Now I’ll have to look him in the eye knowing full well that I’ve just thought of him like THAT. It’s not like he needs to know. It’s not like he’d understand, being a holy being- I bet he’s never tossed himself off over me! I’m probably not even his type! Do angels have types?? He has a human body but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s into sex! He’s probably not programmed for that kind of love... _the thoughts raced around his brain, giving him the worst headache. _I need a coffee _he thought.


	9. Crepes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% pure fluff. Probably went overboard on the descriptions of the food, but hey. It's what Aziraphale would want, okay?  
I knew I wanted to have Crowley listen to "Best Friend" by Queen in this scene, so I looked up the song to check which album it was on, and low and behold, a very very Crowley song, "I'm in Love With My Car" is the song before that on the album! So that worked out pretty well I'd say.   
I obviously don't own the rights to these songs, both from the 1975 Queen Album A Night at The Opera.

Aziraphale woke to a delicious smell, and the faint sounds of sizzling and music playing somewhere else in the flat. He shook his head to try and wake himself up, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He didn’t think he’d ever really slept like that- the occasional nap in his favourite chair in the bookshop hardly counted really. He made the bed, meticulously straightening the covers and pillows until it looked completely unslept in, then followed the noise into the kitchen.

He peeked into the kitchen almost shyly, watching Crowley from the doorway. The demon had his glasses off, laid carefully to one side on the counter, and was singing along to something that sounded somewhat familiar:

“Oh  
The machine of a dream, such a clean machine  
With the pistons a pumpin', and the hubcaps all gleam  
When I'm holding your wheel  
All I hear is your gear  
With my hand on your grease gun  
Mmm, it's like a disease, son  
I'm in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. But wait, was the demon _cooking?? _He watched, as Crowley rested a bowl of batter on his hip, whisking it with the other hand before spooning some of the mixture into a sizzling hot pan on the gas ring, making it look so natural and easy. He picked up a little wooden thing and used it to spread the batter evenly around the pan.

The angel just watched, mesmerised by the vision of Crowley in front of him, wearing a Velvet Underground vest top and jeans, singing passionately along to the song playing through his high tech speakers. He flicked the pan up, flipping the pancake expertly. He glanced up, spotting the angel by the door. Aziraphale went a bit pink, and shuffled into the kitchen, running a hand through his curls. “Good morning dear” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen.  
“G’morning angel” Crowley replied softly, as he slid the finished pancake out of the pan and onto one of the plates in front of him. “Tea? Coffee?” he looked at Aziraphale awkwardly.   
“A tea would be lovely” Aziraphale replied, wondering why the demon wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s all this Crowley?” he inquired; an eyebrow raised. The counter had two plates, each with a pile of crepes already on them, and little bowls of Nutella, sugar, whipped cream, neatly sliced strawberries and bananas, a little bottle of syrup, and another of lemon juice. The demon passed a cup of freshly made tea over to Aziraphale, still not meeting his eyes. “I made us crepes.”

“Oh, how lovely, just like Paris” Aziraphale sighed, wondering if this was some grand gesture, or if this was a normal occurrence. “Just like the time I saved your arse you mean?” the demon chuckled, handing a plate full of crepes to him. Aziraphale huffed. “You do love to tease me about that, don’t you? But these do look quite extraordinary, I must say.” He helped himself to the toppings and took up the fork placed in front of him, carefully scooping up a bite and bringing it to his lips. He looked up and noticed Crowley intently staring at him from across the counter, hands clutching his mug of coffee a little too tightly. Aziraphale closed his eyes a little out of sheer bliss. “mmm... good heavens, this tastes exactly like the crepes in Paris! However did you learn to make them??”

“I...uh... well” Crowley cleared his throat. “I went back and asked the chef to teach me. Funny story that, I ended up training as a pastry chef for 5 years in Paris” he laughed and blushed a delicate shade of pink that made Aziraphale feel giddy. “You trained as a _pastry chef?? _Just to learn how to make crepes?” the angel asked incredulously. Crowley just shrugged.   
“I had nothing else on really, and I knew you liked cakes and sweet things” he said the last part quieter, popping a forkful of crepe into his mouth. _Oh my. Did he do all of this for me? _The angel wondered, his heart pounding. “I just... I just thought, y’know, if our plan doesn’t work we should enjoy our last...” the demons’ voice was much softer now, like velvet sliding over Aziraphale.   
“Very kind” he replied, “these really are splendid, thank you.” Crowley smiled, a beautiful, genuine smile that made creases around his eyes, the morning light making them deep pools of gold.

“Ooh, you make me live  
Whatever this world can give to me  
It's you you're all I see  
Ooh, you make me live now honey  
Ooh, you make me live  
Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had  
I've been with you such a long time  
You're my sunshine and I want you to know  
That my feelings are true  
I really love you  
Oh, you're my best friend “

The song played in the background, and time seemed to stop as Aziraphale gazed into Crowleys’ eyes. Crowleys’ gaze flicked back down to his plate, breaking the eye contact with something like shame flitting across his face. _Demons don’t feel shame Aziraphale, pull yourself together, _he thought as he finished off his crepes. But the demon was definitely avoiding eye contact. “Angel. Aziraphale...”  
“Yes?” he looked up from his plate, hopeful.   
“I... I uh. I need to tell you something...” the demon looked downright embarrassed, but he lifted his eyes slowly to meet the angels’. “I... uh...”  
“You love me, is that it?” Aziraphale asked quietly, hopefully.  
“Wha-? That’s... Well yes! I thought that was obvious! But... it’s okay, I know it’s not mutual, but if it’s my last chance to say it then yes! I love you Aziraphale!” He spluttered, red faced, arms moving wildly.  
“I love you too” Aziraphale said softly, gazing up at Crowley through his lashes.   
“Y-you do? You what??” Crowley stuttered; eyes wide.   
“I love you dear boy. You told me in your sleep last night, and I told you back. I love you, and I’m right here.” Crowley flung his arm out, miracling everything from the counter to the other side of the kitchen, leaning across the counter to slam his mouth into Aziraphales’. One hand planted on the counter, the other finding itself tangled in the angels’ shirt, he kissed him as if the world was ending. Aziraphale was stunned for the first few seconds, then found himself greedily kissing him back, his hands reaching up to grasp the demons’ hair. Crowley suddenly stopped, pulling back breathlessly. “I’m... I’m sorry angel. I shouldn’t have... forgive me?” he looked stricken with worry; his yellow eyes wide as if he might cry. Aziraphale cupped his demons face in his hands, stroking those sharp cheekbones with his thumbs. “There is nothing to forgive, my love” and before Crowley could speak, or even register what he had said Aziraphale was pulling the demon over the counter with surprisingly strong hands. Crowley suddenly found himself on the angels’ lap, straddling him. Before he could speak the angel was kissing him, harder than before, his hands bunching up the fabric of his vest at his hips.

Aziraphale grasped Crowley tightly; his hands sliding up the demons’ shirt and Crowley responded by nibbling the angels’ lip gently, eliciting a moan from the angel that made Crowley shudder, his hands in the angels’ hair pulling him close. Crowley breathed in the scent of the angel; the new cologne his barber had recommended blending deliciously with the vague aroma of old books, vanilla and tea that always hung around the angel. A heady, intoxicating mix that made the demon feel almost drunk.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and pink they just sat there like that- Crowley on Aziraphales’ lap, staring at each other, neither sure what to say and neither wanting to break the silence. “Angel… you… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” Crowley finally broke the silence with a dazed look etched onto his face- as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Aziraphales’ face broke into a smile that lit up his face, “How long?” Aziraphale breathed.  
“oh, only sssince Eden” the demon moved closer and whispered in Aziraphales’ ear.   
“I don’t recall kissing having been invented then Crowley” the angel chided.  
“Oh don’t be so sssmart. That’s when I first felt like thisss then” his voice becoming more of a hiss as he slid his hands up the angels’ shirt, fingers curling in those blonde hairs, slipping down, down, down. Aziraphale moaned a little arching his back but put his hands on the demons’ chest as if to stop him. Immediately Crowley withdrew his hands, concern furrowing his brow. “Angel? Am I... going too fast?”

“No dear. That isn’t it at all, I promise” he took the demons’ hands in his own. “Frankly? I’m terrified of what is going to happen today. I’m scared that our plan will fail and I will never see you again, that I will never get to do this again.” He lifted Crowleys’ hands to his lips and kissed each knuckle gently. 

“Oh” Crowleys’ mouth twitched. “I guess we’d better go, get it over with.” Aziraphale felt the worry claw at his stomach as he held the demons’ hands. “Not... not yet” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Crowley again. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, slower this time, still holding hands.


	10. The Flaming Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley being protective of Aziraphale, and drunk fluff.  
(Crowleys' POV)

Crowley circled Aziraphale protectively, even whilst wearing his face. Even though he had known it was coming it was still a struggle for him not to summon every ounce of his strength to rip free of the other angels’ grips, to fling himself at Hastur and rip out his throat before he could get to Aziraphale. Instead he had to allow himself to be bundled into the van, as he heard Aziraphale yell out in his own voice “They’re taking my best friend!” It was a good piece of acting but it still twisted Crowleys’ stomach into knots. When he came to in Heaven surrounded by angels and glass, tied to a chair, it took every bit of him to sit up straight and stay calm. He silently prayed to anyone who was listening that their plan would work, that they would get out of this intact.

The way they spoke to him, or rather to Aziraphale, made his blood boil but still he kept his tone light, his face inscrutable. He wasn’t surprised when a demon appeared, bringing with him a pan of hellfire. All according to plan. It figured that Heaven and Hell would be in cahoots now- they both still wanted their war and so it made sense that they would unite to destroy the two beings who had helped to prevent it. He would have breathed a sigh of relief if it wouldn’t have alerted suspicion but knowing that it meant holy water for the angel filled him with reassurance.

When they reunited later in Berkley Square Crowley tried his best to play it cool, listening to his angel tell him about all the fun he had had pretending to be him. He still couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anger at the way the other angels treated him as Aziraphale though, or the worry twisting his insides. The whole night he tried to shake off that feeling, desperately trying to squash it down, but every time he looked at the angel he saw him being kidnapped. He tried to absorb himself in his favourite activities- namely spending time with Aziraphale, watching Aziraphale enjoy his food, and drinking large amounts of expensive alcohol, but still the thoughts lingered like a dark cloud in his mind.

They stumbled up to the front door of the bookshop that evening, both drunk and having walked from the Ritz, as Crowleys’ car was still parked up outside his flat, right where Adam had left it. Aziraphale unlocked the door, a feat in itself considering how drunk he was right then. Crowley waited on the steps as Aziraphale let himself in, unsure whether to follow the angel inside or not. _What about what happened earlier? What if that was a mistake? What if he only said those things, only kissed me because he thought he was about to die? Does that mean it meant nothing? What do I do? _The thoughts raced so fast through the drunk demons’ mind that he could barely register each one before it was gone.

“Are you? I mean, would you like to come in?” Aziraphales’ voice rang through the fog in Crowley’s mind. Crowley tried to look as unaffected as possible, despite the drunken swaying. “Oh yeah. You sure angel?” He looked over his glasses at the angel, trying to fathom his expression.  
“Quite. I still have some of that lovely Chateau if you would care to join me?” The demon just nodded and followed the angel in meekly. They sat and drank in silence for a while, Crowley sprawled on the sofa opposite the table that Aziraphale was leaning on rather heavily. “Are you quite alright dear?” The angel asked suddenly, worried at the demons’ uncharacteristic silence. “Yeah. Well… no. I just keep thinking about what happens if they realise it was a trick, what they’ll do to you, y’know?” It all came out in a jumble, and Aziraphale frowned as he realised that this must have been on the demons’ mind all day.

Aziraphale stood woozily and made his way over, shooing Crowley’s legs off the sofa and rather ungracefully letting himself fall onto the sofa next to Crowley. He turned to face the demon and patted his knee.

“They’ll be terrified of us now dear” he chuckled, but his tone shifted as he took the demons’ hands in his own “even if they do realise, we can take a stand. I’ll not leave your side until the last breath leaves my body.” Suddenly there were tears in Crowleys’ eyes that he couldn’t stop from flowing, slipping past his glasses and down his cheeks.

_Does that mean? Does he? _Before any more thoughts could run through his head, before he knew what was happening, Aziraphale was reaching up to remove his glasses. “Can I?” he asked softly. Crowley nodded, not trusting himself to speak and the angel delicately removed his glasses, placing them on top of a pile of books. “We’re alright dear. We don’t need to be afraid anymore.” The angel spoke softly, his hands taking Crowleys’ again. “I’m not! I wasn’t!” Crowley said indignantly, the tears rolling down his cheeks saying otherwise. “It... it’s not just that... I AM afraid... but I’m _angry _too. Have they always talked to you like that? The other angels, I mean?” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop himself. “Oh. Well, yes, I suppose they have. I tried to ignore it for the longest time, avoiding checking in in person as much as I could.”

Crowleys’ hands balled into fists, white knuckled. “It made me livid, angel. I wanted to tear their throats out. I wanted them on their knees, giving you the respect you deserve, but instead they treated you like dirt” he spat, and Aziraphale could feel his anger.  
“Shhh, dear boy. It’s alright. They shan’t be talking to either of us like that ever again. I promise-“ he was cut off by Crowley suddenly cupping his face, kissing him hard. He let out a soft “oof!” returning the kiss fervently. He stopped after a few seconds though, pulling back a little. “Too fast? Angel? I can slow down, forgive me?” the demon gazed at the angel, brow knitted with worry.

“It’s not that, my love” Aziraphale took Crowleys’ hands once more, lifting them to his lips to kiss each knuckle slowly, reverently. Crowley looked confused, snake pupils as wide as they could go in the soft gloom of the bookshop. “I think... that is... I want to be a little more... sober, my dear. I want you to know that this, us, isn’t just because the world was ending, or because we are intoxicated.” He smiled a little at the demon, whose mouth was agape. How had the angel known exactly what he had been worried about? “Alright angel, we can sober up a bit” they both grimaced as they forced some of the alcohol out of their systems.

The demon didn’t want to be too sober, in case he lost his nerve, but he also wanted to savour this moment. “I was so worried for you” Aziraphale said quietly.   
“You were worried about me?? I was worried about you! I can defend myself, but you? You’ve never been violent once, in your entire existence!” Crowley leaned back, taking a breath.   
“Oh, my dear. I would not let the forces of Heaven or Hell come between us. I had a flaming sword for a reason,” the last part Aziraphale said more softly, lowering his eyes. ““I was part of it, you know. The first war between Heaven and Hell. I used the sword to strike down those who opposed Gods’ will. I thought... I thought it was right at the time.”

Crowley had always known this had probably been the case. All the loyal angels had been called into battle, every single one. But he could just never quite picture Aziraphale smiting anyone; it was unimaginable to think of the angel in front of him, face contorted with rage, flaming sword in hand, striking down the unfaithful. “I hated every second of it. So, you can imagine how relieved I was to be assigned to Earth. Then I met you, and I began to wonder if the war had been the right thing to do. And then, when I gave Adam the sword? I felt so_ so_ relieved to be rid of it. I vowed that I would never fight like that again.” Tears dripped down his face, and Crowley found himself reaching up, to gently wipe the tears from the angels’ face, his thumbs brushing the angels’ soft cheeks. “But you took up the sword yesterday angel,” Crowley replied, gently stroking the angels’ face still, his yellow eyes staring straight into Aziraphales. “For the Earth, yes. For us. For you.” He paused, and the silence felt like it would stretch on forever. “I love the Earth, it’s my home. More than Heaven ever was or will be. But part of the reason it feels like home, is you Crowley. Most of the reason actually.” The angel flushed a deep shade of pink as he said this, looking up at the demon through his lashes. Crowley was suddenly, completely and utterly, overwhelmed by his love for Aziraphale. He grabbed the angels’ lapels, using the momentum to kiss Aziraphale hard.


	11. An Intimate Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale decides to take matters into his own hands, finally.  
Content warning for X-rated content   
(Aziraphales' POV)

Aziraphale kissed the demon back, hard. Rational thought left his mind and he felt himself pushing the demon back onto the sofa, one hand supporting Crowleys’ back, relishing the look of surprise in the demons’ eyes as he climbed on top of him. He had had enough of waiting, of turning down the demons’ gentle advances, convincing himself that they were only friends, pretending the thought of Crowley naked didn’t drive him wild. Centuries, no, millennia of denial. Heaven could not stop him now.

One arm still wrapped around Crowleys’ waist, hand on the small of his back, Aziraphale started to unbutton Crowleys’ shirt and waistcoat. The demons’ hands fumbled at the angels own buttons, as desperate as Aziraphale. “Angel!” Crowley gasped, his body limp beneath the angels.   
“Yes dear,” Aziraphale panted, pausing in his kissing, “what is it? Am I going too fast for you now?” he had a mischievous gleam in his eye, a grin playing on his lips. “Bloody hell angel, where did that come from???” Crowley gasped again as Aziraphales’ thumb began to circle his nipple, still half covered by his unbuttoned shirt. Aziraphale stopped the circling, and flicked Crowleys’ nipple, hard. The demon writhed beneath him and the angels grin grew wider.

Then suddenly a bashful look rose on Aziraphales’ face, the pink flush turning a darker red across his cheeks. “Do you... Do you not like it my dear? He asked shyly. Crowley flushed an even brighter red.   
“I... I didn’t say that! Just... unexpected as’all-“ he broke off with a little yelp as Aziraphale flicked his nipple again, harder. “Well then, be a _nice _demon now, won’t you” he grinned, enjoying making Crowley squirm beneath him. “I told you... I’m... not... _nice” _the demon panted.

“Oh yes, it was one of those four letter words, wasn’t it love?” the angel smirked, something Crowley had never seen before. “I can think of some other more fun four-letter words though”   
“Mmphm” Crowley moaned, as Aziraphale leant down and nibbled his earlobe.   
“What four letter words can I make you say, my love?” He bit Crowleys’ neck, hard.  
“Fuck!” The demon yelped eyes wide.   
“Well that’s a start” Aziraphale whispered in the demons’ ear, nibbling and kissing the demons’ neck gently. “Angel!” he moaned.   
“Not a four-letter word dear” the angel said pulling away and wagging his finger.   
“Angel... stop” the demon moaned, even as his back arched at the angels’ touch.

Aziraphale pulled back, startled. “Whatever is wrong, my love?” he said, puzzled. Crowley opened his eyes, bright yellow in the gloom and stared up at the angel, as if he was searching the angels’ face for something. “It is you, angel? Isn’t it?” he croaked. “You are Aziraphale?”  
“Well of course it’s me my dear, why ever would you think otherwise?” the angel asked, brow furrowed. Crowley gazed up at him, quiet for a moment. “I just... you’re... you seem different” he replied, voice still hoarse. “You’re... you’re not really a demon, sent to trick me? You are _my_ angel?” he reached up, cupping the angels face, thumbs tracing all the laughter lines. “Yes, my love. I’m sorry if I startled you. Is there anything I can say to assure you?” The angel looked so worried that Crowley knew it must really be him. “No angel, no. It’s okay. I was just...” he trailed off, still holding the angels face.   
“We don’t have to-” Aziraphale started to say.   
“No, please, I’m sorry... don’t stop angel” the demon interrupted. “Please, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale leant back down, moving so that Crowleys’ legs were pinned. He leant closer. “What do you want me to do now, foul demon?” the playful tone in his voice somehow made it even more arousing. “Another four-letter word, perhaps?” he bit Crowleys’ lip, slowly, pulling on it a little. Crowley gasped, his hands in the angels’ hair. “Kiss me angel. Kiss me” he breathed as he pulled the angel towards him. One of Aziraphales’ hands slipped down Crowleys’ chest, slowly, toying with the dark hairs trailing down to his stomach. Lower, lower. _Whatever would the other angels think of me now? _Aziraphale wondered, before realising he didn’t care any more. He ran his hand over the demons’ crotch, achingly slow, tracing circles with his finger as they kissed. The demons’ hands tightened in his hair desperately with every movement of the angels’ hand. A “Please” barely audible came from the demon.

He popped the button on Crowleys’ jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper, to reveal the demons’ boxer shorts, his erection threating to burst through the fabric. Crowley picked up where he left off, hastily unbuttoning Aziraphales’ waistcoat and shirt, sitting almost upright to kiss the angels’ bare chest. He pulled off Aziraphales’ shirt greedily, and the angel responded by gently pulling the demons shirt off before pushing him back down onto the sofa. His hands gripped Crowleys’ hips, as he kissed his way down from the demons’ mouth to the waistband of his boxers. He felt the demon quiver with anticipation with every bite mark he left on his chest and stomach.

“be a good demon, will you?” Aziraphale whispered, just inches from Crowleys waistband.   
“Mmm... m’not good” the demon moaned.   
“You are though dear. Now tell me what you want” his voice firm, but still quiet.  
“You...” Crowley moaned, his hips straining up against the angels’ palms.   
“Me?” the angel raised an eyebrow, looking up at him through his lashes.   
“Yessssss” Crowley hissed, his eyes half closed. Aziraphale snapped the waistband of his boxers against Crowleys’ sharp hips, making him groan. Aziraphale pulled Crowleys jeans and boxers down a little, revealing his demon in all his glory. _Oh my. _Aziraphale thought. He continued his trail of kisses, taking Crowley slowly into his mouth, licking the head so slowly he thought he could hear the demons heart stop. He moved a little, taking all of Crowleys’ cock into his mouth, noting every wriggle of the demons’ hips as he held them down, every sharp intake of breath a job well done. The demon arched his back as Aziraphale picked up the pace, every flick of the angels’ tongue eliciting a moan. Whether it was the angel or the demon who miracled the sofa to be big enough for this Aziraphale wasn’t sure, but he was glad of it, all the same.

He teased Crowley, slowing down every time he felt the demon come close, making him shudder and groan for what felt like an eternity. “Angel... angel please” his voice hoarse with lust Crowley moved his hands from the angels’ blonde curls. Aziraphale came up for air with a pop, “Yes dear?”  
“mmph... I want...” He struggled to sit up a little, weight on his palms.   
“Yes?”   
“You... I want to...” the demon stuttered as Aziraphale ran his hand over his erection. Crowley leaned over, and hungrily kissed the angel, one hand slipping down his trousers. “Oh!” the angel gasped, as Crowleys’ hand wound around his cock. His hand was so cool, so smooth, it made Aziraphale want to melt. But no, he was in charge. He was going to make up for all the time he had made Crowley wait, starting with this.

He pushed his demon back down, tutting. “Oh no, my dear, this is all about you tonight.” He stood, and lifted the demon up into his arms, the softness of his form disguising the angels’ strength. Crowley yelped in surprise, throwing his thin arms around the angel as if he was scared Aziraphale would drop him. Aziraphale could have just miracled them up to his bedroom, but where was the fun in that? Crowley was always making grand gestures, in his own funny way, and the angel had decided it was his turn. He carried Crowley up the crooked stairs, and into the flat above, straight into his rarely used bedroom. It was cream and most of the room was taken up by a large bed with soft beige sheets, and too many plump white cushions and pillows. He sometimes liked to come up and read in here, so the floor was littered with piles of books.

He lowered the shocked demon onto the bed with great care, climbing on top of him. He held the demon down again, pressing his hips into the bed as he took Crowley into his mouth again. The demon shuddered, still hard and desperate for the angel, moaning as Aziraphale took the whole length of him, grasping his hips tightly. Crowleys’ hands wound into the angels curls once more, his back arching. The angel started, slow at first, teasing, making Crowley writhe and shake with movement of his mouth and tongue. “Please, angel... please” he groaned; his breathing ragged, body taunt beneath the angel. Aziraphale stopped again, making Crowley moan, this time coming up to kiss the demon. He kissed from his mouth to his jaw, stopping at his neck below the demons’ ear. “Yes? What do you want dear? You have to tell me” he whispered.

“Please... please...” Crowley begged.  
“Please?” the angels hand tightened round the demon, stroking achingly slow.   
“Please... make me... make me come angel.”  
“Well seeing as you asked _so _nicely, like a good demon, I suppose I can oblige you my dear” he answered, picking up the pace as he kissed Crowley, supporting himself with one arm. Crowleys’ hands undid Aziraphales’ trousers, shaking and this time Aziraphale didn’t stop him as one hand slipped around him. His other hand stroked the angels face, before winding into the angels’ hair once more, as if he was afraid to touch anywhere else. He tentatively ran his hand down the back of Aziraphales neck, nails digging into the angels back.

Suddenly the angels hand moved faster, and Crowley matched his speed until the both of them were out of breath. Crowley came first, hot on the golden hairs littering the angels’ stomach, his nails leaving little marks on the angels back, as he moaned the angels name loudly. This was all Aziraphale needed to come, and he collapsed into the demon’s arms, rolling them over so that Crowley was on top of him, in his arms. Crowley wriggled up, kissing the angel lightly on the cheek. “Bloody Hell, angel. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that” his voice raw, as his yellow eyes gazed at the angel. Aziraphale looked down at his demon; red faced, his hair messy and out of place, snake pupils as wide as he had ever seen them. “I think I can guess, my love” he smiled, and hummed in contentment.


	12. An Anxious Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ruined a perfectly good demon, look at it, it's got anxiety!  
I haven't read the book yet but I saw a few people mention that Crowley is an anxious lad, so here you are. (Disclaimer: I actually have anxiety and have panic attacks, and they are often like the one I tried to describe here, but we're all different and experience anxiety and panic a little differently!)  
Crowleys' POV

Crowley awoke slowly. The first thing he noticed was the warmth. He was so so _warm _and... cosy? He shifted, realising he was under something very soft. He opened his eyes, blinking in the pale red light under the covers he had managed to cocoon himself in. He pulled the covers down, revealing just his eyes and nose, and scouted his surroundings. A dusty old oak chest of draws, next to a small open window on left, a matching oak wardrobe directly in front, a door to his right. And piles of books scattered across most of the available floor space. Where was he??

Memories flashed through his mind. The Antichrist, the bookshop in flames, the Bentley, Aziraphale standing over him with a flaming sword, Satan, Aziraphale, crepes... _wait? Crepes?? _He thought. Kissing the angel...oh. _Oh. _He was in Aziraphales’ _bedroom. _But then, where was the angel? He stiffened, listening out for any unusual sounds. He heard none. No usual sounds either, he found himself realising. He felt the panic rise in his chest. Aziraphale could have popped down to check his books and been ambushed, taken while he had slept.

He scrambled up, long limbs flying, pulling up his jeans before dashing out the door and down the stairs. “Aziraphale? Aziraphale?! Angel where are you?” he started shouting, panic rising from the pit of his stomach to his racing heart. “Aziraphale???!!” he flung open the door to the back room, then checked the kitchen. He looked around wildly, eyes wide in desperation. “Angel, Angel!!” he cried out until he was hoarse. He collapsed in a heap in the middle of the floor, chest heaving as he struggled to take in air. It felt as if his breathing was being restricted by something invisible and inhumanely strong. Tears streamed from his eyes as his mind went numb, shutting everything off in an attempt to regain control. His stomach churned and he could feel sweat seeping from every pore, and still it felt like there was no air, why was there no air?

His hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he rocked slightly, trying to calm himself. All he could think of was the memory of bookshop burning around him, and the thought of Aziraphale being kidnapped. He could almost taste the soot and ash, the scent of burning paper and glue heavy in the air. Still he couldn’t breathe and _oh_ his head hurt so much.

Suddenly the door opened, the bell tinkled, the lights flicked on, and footsteps came across the wooden floor. He heard something drop onto the floor, and the footsteps quicken. “Crowley dear, Crowley! Are you alright?” a worried voice, properly enunciated words. Crowley lifted his head, tears obscuring his vision.   
“Aziraphale? Angel? Is that you?” he managed to say, heaving for breath.   
“Yes my dear!” suddenly he was being scooped up in strong arms and carried to the sofa in the back room. He was deposited gently on the sofa, and he vaguely felt the spark of a miracle as a thick blanket was grabbed from the air and bundled around him delicately. He felt the weight of someone sitting down next to him. He leant towards the source of heat, and was wrapped in the angels’ arms, his head resting against the angel’s chest, Aziraphales’ chin coming to settle on top of his head.

Crowley couldn’t stop the tears, struggling to breath as his whole body shook. Aziraphale smoothed his hair gently, and rubbed the demons’ back beneath the blanket. “It’s alright my love, I’m here. Right here.” They sat like that, the angel gently holding the demon, still wrapped in the blanket, until Crowleys’ breathing had returned to normal and the shaking had subsided. “Crowley, dear, what happened?” Aziraphale broke the silence.  
“I... I woke up, couldn’t sssense you, panicked, I just...I thought they got you... It wasss sssilly” his voice was almost a hiss, barely audible.   
“Oh my dear. I’m so sorry to have caused you distress, I popped out to get us breakfast and I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful...” his arms tightened around Crowley, hugging him close. “S’alright angel, I’m sssorry for the fuss” he mumbled into the angels’ chest.  
“Nonsense dear boy, after all you’ve been through the past few days it’s understandable. Would you like a nice cup of tea?”   
“A ssstrong coffee angel, please?” he pressed his face into Aziraphales’ shirt, not wanting the angel to see his face all puffy and tear stained.   
“Certainly my love”, the angel kissed the top of his forehead as he went to stand. His arms scooped up Crowley again.   
“Angel! Angel! I... I can walk!” The demon stuttered, going redder.  
“I know dear” he said softly as he carried the demon into the kitchen. Crowley was gently set down on a chair, and the angel bustled with a coffee machine that definitely hadn’t been there before.

He popped back into the shop for a few seconds to grab the large basket he had dropped, kissing the top of the demons’ head as he came in and out. Crowley just sat and observed the angel quietly, trying to bring himself back to the present, the anxiety still sitting in the pit of his stomach. He had felt anxious before, of course. Anxious that someone would find out about the Arrangement, anxious that Hell would realise he embellished a lot of his reports, anxious that the world would end and he would be forced to fight in a war he wanted no part in. His hands shook as he drew the blanket closer. But this was something else. Pure, raw terror at the idea that Aziraphale could be hurt, or worse. The idea that after 6000 years he would be completely and utterly alone in the world, that he would never hear his angels’ voice or see his smile again. He was quite sure he had had what the humans would call a “panic attack”. _Well that’s new, _he thought.

Aziraphale handed him a steaming hot black coffee with far too many sugars, just the way he liked it, then he began unpacking the basket. He brought out an assortment of pastries, a glass bottle of fresh juice, and a punnet of fresh strawberries. How did the angel know him so well? He sniffed the air, noting that all the pastries either had cinnamon or strawberry flavours and fillings, his two favourite flavours. He didn’t often eat, but who could resist juicy strawberries and warm cinnamon buns?  
“You did all this for me?” he asked, frowning.  
“Of course my dear, I’m no chef but I thought maybe we could make breakfast a sort of... tradition?” Aziraphale blushed a delicate shade of pink.   
“You know we don’t _need _to eat, angel”   
“Yes, but it is quite _nice _and it isn’t like ‘not needing to’ has stopped us before, now has it my dear?” Crowley wasn’t entirely sure if the angel was still talking about food or not.   
“Should I say thank you?” He asked, eyebrow raised.   
“Well I should hope so!” the angel chuckled good naturedly as he bit into a cream filled pastry. Crowley noticed the little bit of cream left behind on the angels’ lip and couldn’t help himself. He leant over and kissed the angel, his tongue catching the morsel of cream before slipping into the angels’ mouth. Aziraphales’ eyes widened, before closing as he kissed the demon back.

“Thanksss angel” Crowley whispered as he pulled away, before rather casually popping a strawberry into his mouth, leaning back like nothing had happened.   
“Oh... you... you foul fiend! Now I have pastry and cream all over my favourite waistcoat!” Aziraphale blustered, his face red. Crowley waved his hand nonchalantly and the pastry reformed, whole but for the single bite the angel had taken out of it, on the plate in front of the angel. The angel tutted and lifted the pastry to his lips, but before he could get to the strawberry in the centre Crowley leant forward, quick as a flash to snatch the strawberry in his mouth. He kissed the startled angel again, just a peck this time, and slipped back into his chair grinning.

He was no longer sitting there wrapped in the blanket and curled in on himself. Instead he sprawled in the chair like normal as he popped another strawberry in his mouth, smirking at the angel. He hoped the sight of him lounging in nothing but his jeans and seductively eating strawberries would distract Aziraphale from what he had just witnessed. It did, for a while, the angel getting progressively pinker as he sipped his tea and ate his pastries, never taking his eyes from the demon. He watched Crowley do some rather wicked things with his tongue- licking cream from the pastries like that, really? Crowley thought his distraction technique was working; until Aziraphale set down his empty mug of tea and looked over at him, worry etched into his face.

“Crowley...” the angel began, hesitantly.   
“Yessss?” Crowleys’ glasses were somehow on his face, as if he had miracled them on to conceal his emotions without even realising. He peered at the angel over them, feeling the dread rise from his stomach. It was one thing to _feel _the feelings. Talking about them? Even worse. “My dear, how are you feeling?” The angels’ voice was soft, and Crowley could feel the concern in it.   
“M’fine angel, don’t worry about it” Crowley shrugged.  
“But... but we need to talk about earlier, my dear” the angel pressed.   
“S’nothing to talk about Aziraphale.”  
“Crowley. You had a panic attack, and the events of these past few days have clearly taken their toll. It’s alright you know. To ask for help I mean. And to... to talk about what’s bothering you. With me. If... that is, if you want to.” Aziraphales’ voice had a firmness to it, and Crowley found himself withdrawing, curling into himself once more. The angel got up, removing Crowleys’ glasses, kneeling in front of him and gently taking his hands. He looked up at the demon expectantly. “I... I thought I’d lost you, when the bookshop burned down angel. And it destroyed me. It tore me up inside. You... you saw me in the pub. I was hopeless. I’d given up. And then... there you were.” It spilled out of him, like the dam had suddenly burst, the hole slowly growing larger, letting more through.

“Then... I was sure it was all over at the airbase, but we did it, we saved the world. But... just when I thought we were safe...they took you away from me, and even though we planned it so carefully... I was so scared angel. So scared that I’d never see you again.” He came up for air, hot tears stinging his cheeks. Aziraphale reached up and wiped the tears away ever so delicately with an embroidered handkerchief. “Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry. I had no idea I caused you so much worry.”   
Crowley sniffled, “S’not your fault angel.”  
“Oh my dear boy, I promise I’m not going leave you. Not ever.” He clasped the demons’ hands tighter. “Nothing could keep us apart my love. Not all the forces of Heaven or Hell.” He brought Crowleys’ hands to his lips, kissing them sweetly. “Is there anything I can do, to help you through this Crowley?” The demon thought his heart might burst with love for his angel.   
“You can get a mobile phone for starters angel” the demon chuckled.   
“Oh! Yes! Then you can teach me to text in case of emergencies!” The angel beamed. “Is there anything else that might help?” The angels’ tone shifted, becoming slightly more serious again.  
” Just... just hold me.” Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale obliged, standing and wrapping his arms around his demon. Crowley made a noise of contentment, burying himself in the cream fabric of the angels’ waistcoat.


	13. The Picnic Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Perhaps one day we could go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz"  
Crowley plans a surprise, misunderstandings happen, then it gets fluffy. Part 1 of this chapter, as it's gotten a bit lengthy! Also a cheeky nod to Brooklyn 99 with the texting!  
(I know Primrose Hill doesn't get locked up at night, but Crowley has to be dramatic with all his finger snapping, so shhh)  
Aziraphales' POV

An angel with a mobile phone. Would wonders never cease? But he had promised Crowley he would get one, and it did sound like it would make things easier. He had gone and bought one, and almost immediately after setting it up and sending Crowley his number the demon had sent him a message.

“Come by my place in 1hr Angel!” and a little winking face. It had read._ It is_ _rather strange_, he thought, _that one doesn’t need to sign off properly in text messages._ He sent Crowley back:  
“Dear Crowley,  
I will see you shortly.  
Sincerest Regards,  
Adorable”

He sighed. _Adorable is NOT my name. _His phone pinged and he looked down at it.  
“Angel! You don’t need to start texts with “Dear so and so!” “ His phoned pinged again.  
“Or sign off”

“Dearest Crowley,  
Suggestion noted. Please ignore the typographical error in my previous message.  
All my love,  
Airshow”

He grimaced. This damn phone and its’ insistence that his name was somehow made up, or at the very least spelled incorrectly. Why, God Herself had given him his name at the start of Creation, for Heavens sake! But at least “dearest” and “all my love” would shut Crowley up. He wiggled with pleasure at the thought of the look on the demons’ face when he read that. The pink would creep up his cheeks and beyond, into his hairline, his mouth would hang slightly open in shock, and he would peer over his glasses in that certain quizzical way of his at his phone screen in disbelief. His fantasy popped like a bubble as his phone pinged again. “Love you too Airshow” _Oh that blasted demon, _Aziraphale thought, blushing pink himself. 

Precisely fifty eight minutes later Aziraphale found himself knocking the intricately wrought silver snake that was Crowleys’ door knocker. The demon answered; glasses off, socks but no shoes, black shirt with the top few buttons undone, hair ruffled. “You’re early angel” he said by way of greeting, leaning in to the kiss angel on the cheek.  
“Two minutes!” Aziraphale protested. “That’s perfectly on time you know!” he still blushed as the demons’ lips brushed his cheek though. He stepped inside the flat, his nose twitching as his senses were assaulted by an array of delicious smells. He could hear a soft waltz playing from the kitchen. Crowley shut the door gently, then circled the angel, until he was in front of him. He had a hungry look in his eyes, and Aziraphale felt how a rabbit must, when confronted by a fox.

“Crowley... Crowley?” he said uncertainly, a question in his voice.  
“Yesss?” almost a hiss in return.  
“Are you? Are you quite alright dear?” he stuttered a little, turning pinker.  
“Never better, Dearesssst” he hissed, a smile creeping across his face. He suddenly crossed the distance between them, and Aziraphale felt himself retreat a little, until his back found the door. His heart felt like it would leap from his throat at any second. Crowley moved fast, a cobra striking his prey. If striking meant pushing someone fiercely against a door and kissing them hard, anyway. The angel yielded to his demon, lips parting for that devilish tongue. He realised he was still tense and let himself relax into the kiss. Heavens, he had been thinking about Crowley doing this to him again since it had first happened in Tadfield Manor just a week ago. Except then he hadn’t kissed him. His breath almost stopped from the excitement of it all. _Oh curse this fragile human form _he thought, as his knees went weak. He felt Crowleys’ hips grind into his, and he grabbed them. He pulled the demon closer, his hands finding the demons’ bottom. He felt the demon smirk as they kissed and gave his bum a pinch in return.

He could feel the demon even through his jeans, and the thought made him hard. Then one of the demons’ hands left the door. He started by winding the angels’ curls in his fingers, before slowly working his way down, fingers grazing the angels’ neck making him shiver deliciously, whispering their way down the angels’ side, across to his chest. His hand stopped and found one of his nipples beneath his shirt, flicking it ever so lightly. Aziraphale gasped into the demons’ mouth. The demons’ hand continued its’ steady descent downwards as they kissed. Crowleys’ tongue hungrily chased his own, and Azirphale felt that surely this was ecstasy. _Actually, not even close, _he found himself thinking distantly as Crowleys’ cool fingers slipped down his trousers, running up and down the length of him so softly that each touch sent shivers up his spine. He moaned a little, pushing himself closer to the demon. But Crowley had other ideas. He removed his hand from Aziraphales’ trousers, instead grabbing the angels’ waist and grinding against him hard. Aziraphale moaned again, louder this time. “Do you want me angel?” Crowley asked him, voice low and lustful as he rubbed himself against the angel. “Oh yes” Aziraphale gasped in reply.  
“Goood, now hold that thought” the demon whispered in his ear, running a slender finger down the angels’ crotch before pulling away, turning around, then sauntering away from the angel. Aziraphale followed him into the kitchen.

“Whatever was that all about, you...you...” he blustered; red faced, still hard, and entirely lost for words.  
“Revenge” Crowley hissed back, flashing him a grin and a cheeky wink from across the room.  
“Oh you... you _cheeky _bastard” Aziraphale went even redder, looking as indignant as he felt. “That really is quite rude.” He crossed his arms as he perched on a stool at the counter.  
“Didn’t hear any complaintsss” he hissed, still smirking.  
“Well that is entirely beside the point” the angel huffed. The demon gave that little half mocking pout that Aziraphale was secretly so fond of.  
“We could just... stay in then angel” he gestured towards the bedroom.  
“Stay in? Where else would we go?” Aziraphale finally pulled his gaze away from the demon and noticed the two large picnic hampers sat on the counter. Crowley ran his hand through his hair.  
“It’s a ssssecret angel” he poked his snake tongue out and Aziraphale found himself wishing that tongue was elsewhere, instead of taunting him like that.

“Well if it is a secret how am I supposed to decide what I would rather do, my dear boy?” he said smugly. The demons’ eyes narrowed a little.  
“Jussst decide angel” he answered, a little smile playing across his lips.  
“Oh very well, I suppose you had best take me to this secret location of yours then!” The demon grinned, snatching his glasses from the counter and grabbing his jacket from the chair it was slung over. He picked up the two hampers, barely able to see over them, and headed to the door slipping his shoes on. Aziraphale followed him, curious. The door clicked behind them as the demon led them out to the Bentley. It practically gleamed in the soft early evening sun. The hampers secure in the back of the car they both climbed in. “Seatbelt, dear” Aziraphale chided as Crowley turned the key in the ignition. The demon rolled his eyes beneath his glasses but did as he was told. The Bentley roared to life and they sped out onto the main road.

The roads remained miraculously clear, the journey over quickly. Aziraphale sat quietly, wondering where on Earth they were going, chewing his lip. They pulled up to Primrose Hill, next to a huge set of iron gates chained up securely. Crowley stepped out, snapping his fingers. The thick chains fell to the floor, and another snap made the gates creak open. He picked up both hampers and led the angel through. He said nothing as they wound their way up the hill. Halfway to the top Aziraphale stopped, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “What... are... we... doing up here...?” He panted.  
“I thought that was obvious angel” the demon puffed, out of breath from the climb and carrying the hampers. “No, it very much is not, my dear” the angel said, breathing heavily.  
“We’re... almost...there.” At least Crowleys’ breathing sounded as laboured as his own, Aziraphale thought.  
“Yes, but where??” he replied.

“Here!” Crowley lowered the hampers to the ground, and with a wave of his arms candles lit up in a circle around a large picnic blanket right at the top of the hill. Aziraphale looked up, gasping as he took in the view- all of London stretched out before them, and the sun had just started to set. “Perfect timing, we get to watch the sunset angel!” The demon looked very pleased with himself as he busily set out plates, cutlery, and an assortment of cushions across the blanket. “Oh my. How did you? When did you?” the angel was at a loss for words.  
“Popped up here earlier to set it up before I finished cooking, little demonic miracle to make sure no one would disturb this spot while I waited for you.” He looked up from where he knelt, setting out two champagne glasses. “S’not much... but we already dined at the Ritz, so...” he broke off, blushing.

_The Ritz? Oh. _Aziraphale remembered that fateful night in the car. Handing the demon his favourite tartan thermos, filled with holy water. _Give you a lift? Anywhere you want to go? _That hopeful look, that ridiculous haircut. _You go too fast for me Crowley. Perhaps one day we could go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz. _He had remembered. The silly demon had remembered. Aziraphale felt a rush of guilt and sadness at the distress he had caused the demon. Dancing around his feelings for 6000 years, rebuffing the demon and running away whenever he had gotten too close.

“Oh Crowley. Can you ever forgive me?” he spoke softly, his face, twisted with guilt and sorrow.  
“Shut up” the demon offered his hand, still on his knees. Then, “Can I tempt you to join me for a picnic angel?” He looked up; snake eyes visible over the top of his sunglasses.  
“Temptation accomplished!” Aziraphale wiggled, taking the demons’ hand and lowering himself onto the blanket.

They sat there for a few minutes in the peachy glow of the sunset, quietly observing. “So, this picnic then?” the angel raised a cheeky eyebrow as he wiggled to face Crowley.  
“Yessss?” the demon hissed, poking his tongue out and winking over the top of his glasses. He reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a rather expensive looking bottle of champagne and pouring them each a glass. He proffered the bottle so that Aziraphale could read the year. “Mmm, a good year” the angel hummed. “Wait... wasn’t that the year I... gave you the holy water?”  
“Yep. I bought a huge case of it to take to the stars with me to drown my sorrows in. O’course I didn’t end up going, but no point letting it go to waste” he grinned.  
“Oh you wicked thing! Did you do all this just to make me feel bad??” Aziraphale snatched his hand away, looking hurt. Of course Crowley was _punishing _him for all those years of torment. _The worst part is that I deserve it,_ thought the angel miserably.

“Wha?? Why would you think that, angel??” Crowley turned a little to face the angel, looking perturbed. “I thought a picnic would be romantic... I... you _did _say one day we should!”  
“But why buy _that _year???” Aziraphale asked, still frowning. It made no sense to him, if it wasn’t a cruel reminder of all of the angels’ regrets.  
“I... I was feeling sorry for myself.” The demon replied sheepishly. “I hoped, when you gave me the holy water... hoped for more. Then you said no, but you still said we could go for a picnic, or dine at the Ritz, and I was so confused angel. Then... at the bandstand, and outside the bookshop... I put my heart on the line, as much as I could, and I was certain that I would never see you again, that I should run as far away as possible. I didn’t want to- I couldn’t- fight you. So I bought a crate load of alcohol that reminded me of you, and got ready to run away. Then you called me, and as soon as I dealt with Hastur and Ligur I came to find you, but you were...gone.” the words tumbled out of his mouth, and tears tumbled from his eyes. “I... I thought tonight... I could show you how it _ssshould _be. Us... together... _finally_.” He paused, “6000 years of wanting you, now finally I can show you what you mean to me.” His face was twisted, tears rolling down, his yellow eyes just visible over his glasses.

“Oh Crowley” Aziraphale sighed, removing the demons’ glasses and cupping his face in his hands. “You don’t _need _to show me. You already have, you always did. I pretended not to notice, but of course I did.” He smoothed the tears away, then leaned in to kiss the demon. This kiss wasn’t the frantic, desperate, hungry kiss they had shared earlier. It was a soft, delicate, gentle kiss that said “_I’m here” _and “_I love you” _and “_I know”_.

The sun was half set when they finally pulled apart, lips swollen and mouths dry. Crowley poured them both champagne and they clinked their glasses together, watching the last few moments of the sunset over London.


	14. The Picnic Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pt 2. Just fluff to be honest. Pure unadulterated fluff. Enjoy x

Crowley was nervous. Nervous that Aziraphale wouldn’t like the picnic- he had spent all the previous night and most of the day preparing it with everything he knew the angel would like. He topped up both of their glasses with champagne. “Food?” he asked, little finger winding around the angels’ thumb gently. “I thought you’d never ask!” the angel wiggled excitedly, clapping his hands together.

Crowley pulled a glass pot full of ice out, removing the lid and offering it to the angel. Nestled in the ice... oysters. He opened another, smaller, pot containing a sauce that Aziraphale recognised. “Is that... from Rome?” The demon nodded.  
“It took some research to find an authentic recipe, but I finally found it a few weeks ago. I was going to make us a “we averted the apocalypse” dinner if it worked out with Warlock.”  
“You planned this for weeks? Even though it mightn’t have gone to plan?”  
“Yeah, well. S’pose I’ve always been a bit of an optimist angel” he shrugged, but he felt himself smile. “Longer than weeks, if I’m honest... more like 11 years.”  
“11 years??” the angel said incredulously, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

The demon went quiet for a moment. “Since you first suggested it really. But it was more of a dream than a plan... then 11 years ago you agreed to thwart me, and I realised maybe we would finally stop being on opposite sides when it was all over...” he trailed off, looking down at the piece of grass he had been knotting, feeling embarrassed at how much he had let slip past his guard the last few weeks. “Oh Crowley... you silly thing. You wonderful, ridiculous creature,” he kissed the demon on the cheek, and picked up an oyster delicately, drizzling it with sauce. _Ridiculous??? _He thought, bristling a little. Then _wonderful, though? That’s... good, right? _And maybe, just maybe, 50 odd years was a ridiculous length of time to plan a _picnic._ But then, what was 50 years, when compared to 6000?

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slurped down one oyster after the other, taking in every noise of appreciation, every little smile, every flutter of the angels’ eyelashes as he closed his eyes in bliss. He could watch the angel eat forever, he thought. Seeing the pleasure practically emanate from the angel and permeate the air with that warm feeling of satisfaction he couldn’t help but open up and allow the emotions to wash over him. The angels’ aura glowed with contentment, and Crowley basked in it, a snake in the sun.

He was snapped out of it by the angel holding up the last oyster in his fingers, offering it to him. “Hmm? No angel, m’fine” he mumbled.  
“It’s the last one my dear! I saved it for you” the angel had that look on his face, the one that Crowley could never resist. It said _please _and _let me tempt you _and something else Crowley could never quite put his finger on. He rolled his eyes but opened his mouth, as Aziraphale beamed and with one hand tilted Crowleys’ chin up, the other lifting the oyster carefully to the demons’ lips. Crowley tried not to grimace as he felt the slimy salty oyster slip down his throat. He’d never liked them, not even in Rome. Raw? Disgusting. Cooked? Bearable but still avoided. Pickled? He would rather discorporate in the most painful way possible. But his angel looked so happy as he fed it to him that he smiled. At least the sauce got rid of the taste as the oyster went down- he really had done a damned good job of replicating the sauce at Petronius’ restaurant in Rome.

Crowley carefully lifted a platter of sushi out of one of the hampers, along with another bottle of champagne. “Ooh!” Aziraphale wiggled in excitement as he took in the food in the dim light of the candles. “You’re spoiling me! Wherever did you buy it?” The angel looked positively delighted  
“Well the fish and oysters I got fresh from Billingsgate this morning. The rest of the ingredients I found easy enough, London is full of Asian supermarkets” He shrugged, playing it off as no big deal, when actually it had been quite a big deal. He had to drive to the other side of London at 3am, to spend two hours haggling with grumpy fishmongers in a place that stunk of fish. It was worth it now though, seeing the angels’ face light up like that, looking like he couldn’t quite believe Crowley.  
“You mean you _made _this?? Whenever did you learn to make sushi???” His eyes narrowed. “you aren’t fibbing now are you, dear?”  
“Would I lie to you angel?” Crowley asked, smiling, one eyebrow raised. “Well you _are _a demon, my love. Isn’t lying part of the job description?” Aziraphale was smiling too, teasing him.“Yesss... But never to you. Not once” he offered up a piece of sushi in his slender fingers. Aziraphale leaned forward, taking it into his mouth and sucking on the demons’ fingers as he did so. Crowley shivered involuntarily. “Angel...” he whispered, eyes half closed. But Aziraphale was far too interested in the sushi to notice the effect he had on the demon. Instead he had selected a particularly complicated looking piece of sushi which he admired from every angle before dipping it into soy sauce and biting into it. “Mmhmm” he made a noise low in his throat, appreciating the food. Crowley leaned forward, resting his hands on his elbows to watch the angel. The flickering candlelight bathed him in the warmest glow, illuminating all the laughter lines, the way the angels’ nose turned up at the end, his soft blue eyes half closed with pleasure. Crowley popped a piece of sushi into his mouth, not taking his eyes from the angel; observing every wiggle, every sigh, every half smile that crossed his face.

He adored watching the angel eat. It had been a secret pleasure of his, always sat opposite the angel, observing his indulgences whilst barely touching his own food. He liked food, make no mistake, but he would gladly give up every delicacy the world had to offer if it meant he could watch the angel eat it instead. Now he didn’t even have to hide the adoration written across his face, or hide the love in his eyes behind his dark glasses. He could just sit here and bask in the angels’ glow, opening himself to the feelings of love and contentment pouring out from the angel, and allowing his own feelings to flow freely instead of shutting them off. “So where did you learn to make sushi my dear?” Aziraphale broke the soft silence. Crowley took his eyes from the angels’ plump pink lips, meeting the angels' eyes. “I...remember the night off I had every week as Nanny Ashtoreth?” the angel nodded in reply. “I took evening classes, so that I could...” he trailed off.  
“Show off?” The angel quipped cheekily.  
“No!! Well yeah... I mean... I just wanted to see your face light up the way it does when you eat. I wanted to be the reason you lit up like that...” he felt his face grow hot and red, grateful for the dim candlelight. The angel sighed, and took Crowleys’ hands in his own. “You always were, you silly thing. I do _love _food, but your company always made it better.” He let go of the demons’ hands, gently removing Crowleys’ sunglasses. He tutted. “There really is no need for those right now you know! Wearing sunglasses in the dark, when it’s just the two of us!” The demon averted his gaze- still ashamed of his snake eyes- not wanting Aziraphale to see them, still, after all this time. “Look at me, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. “I have always loved your eyes, you know. They are like little pools of gold.” Crowley smiled, a shy smile that crept slowly over his face.

The sky had finally grown dark enough to reveal the twinkling stars. “Angel, do you know what tonight is?” The angel raised a blonde eyebrow, waiting for the demon to continue. “Tonight is the Perseids meteor shower. This is the best spot in the city to watch for them,” he paused, watching the angel.  
“Oh Crowley” Aziraphale sighed. “You really are quite romantic, you know that?” he leaned over and kissed the demons’ cheek. The demon noticed Aziraphale shiver a little, so he pulled a large, thick blanket from one of the baskets. He miracled the empty platter and containers back into the hampers, wriggled closer to the angel, and draped the blanket round them both. The angel snuggled in closer.

“What’s for dessert?” the angel asked. Crowley grinned, and pulled out a selection of dainty pastries- mille feuille and other tiny layered pastries, as beautiful as they were delicious. He also pulled out a pot of strawberries and a tiny chocolate fondue set, lighting the tea light with a snap of his thin fingers. He waited until the chocolate had melted before dipping a strawberry into it, and offering it to the angel. Aziraphales’ eyes closed as he bit into it, and Crowley slipped in for a kiss, delicate and chaste. “Look my dear! A shooting star!” The angel clapped his hands delightedly, mouth full of strawberry as he pointed up at a bright light streaking through the sky. “You know they aren’t really stars angel” Crowley chuckled.

“Oh shush! Don’t spoil my fun you fiend! “Shooting star” sounds much more romantic and imaginative than “falling lump of flaming rock” I rather think” he replied, going for another strawberry. Crowley smiled, then swooped in, snatching the freshly dipped strawberry from the angels’ hand with his lips. His sharp teeth nipped the angels’ fingers and Aziraphale frowned a little, but the frown disappeared as Crowley kissed each finger. “You know there are plenty of strawberries here my dear, you needn’t steal mine!” he huffed as indignantly as he could manage with his cheeks glowing red in the candlelight. “Where’sss the fun in that?” The demon hissed with a grin, snake tongue flitting out.

“You whisked me all the way out here to watch the shooting stars and here you are distracting me from them! You silly old serpent” Aziraphale tutted good naturedly. “Oh I’m dissstracting you am I?” Crowley hissed seductively, one hand slithering along the angels’ inner thigh, thinking of all the other _distracting _things he could do to the angel. He watched the angel gulp and reach up to loosen his collar and bowtie a little. He could see a sliver of the angels’ pale delicate throat, silver in the moonlight. He wanted to kiss that exposed flesh, bite it and mark the angel as his own. He shook his head a little. _I can do that later, _he thought, discarding the mental image of Aziraphales’ neck covered in neat little bruises, like wine stains.

“You know... I made a lot of those constellations myself angel...” Crowley said, raising his golden eyes to the heavens. Aziraphale followed his gaze, gasping as a scattering of meteors streaked across the sky. “I could show you, if you like angel?” Crowleys’ voice was softer, more hesitant this time. The angel turned to look at him, lips slightly parted as if he was about to say something. Instead he just nodded. The demons’ wings suddenly burst from his shoulder blades, dark as the night around them, as he opened his arms out.

All at once they were surrounded by spinning nebulas. Galaxies hung above their heads, planets and stars suspended around them. The angel gasped. He lifted his hands to cup a star in front of him, and it sat in his palms. Beyond the bubble they sat in the twinkling lights of London could still be seen, the stars and galaxies like some kind of semi solid projection around them. As the angels’ eyes filled with wonder he let his own wings out; stretching them wide before letting them settle gently behind him, half folded. “Which ones did you make, my dear? What are their names?” he breathed, his voice barely audible. Crowleys’ fingers caught a nebula, zooming in on it like it was something on a smartphone screen, flicking it so that it spun as it enlarged in front of them.

They sat there like that, surrounded by planets and star systems on top of the hill, London twinkling in front of them all night. Aziraphale asked the demon about the stars, marvelled at the beauty the demon had brought into the universe. Of course he had always thought Crowley had brought beauty with him everywhere he went, but still he loved the glow of pride he felt from him. They watched as meteors sprang across the sky holding hands and occasionally feeding each other pastries, a black wing folded round the angel and a white wing folded round the demon, casting soft shadows in the candlelight.


	15. A Shower For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon with anxiety, an angel with body issues, and a very steamy shower. You're welcome lads!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! Been super busy and just chipping away at it a little each day, but here it is x

Crowley awake with a scream, eyes snapping open in terror, scrambling to get out from the covers as they trapped his body. “Aziraphale!!!!!” he called out loudly. He was pale, sweating, and the quilt was twisted all around him. He finally managed to fling it off, throwing himself out of the bedroom door and taking the stairs down into the bookshop 3 at a time, almost falling. “Angel!!???” he cried out, his chest already heaving for breath as the panic gripped him, its talons sharp and heavy.

“Yes dear? I’m in the back!” he heard the angel call out. He stumbled into the back room, desperately trying to catch his breath. Aziraphale was already dressed and currently perched on a ladder, his back to the demon, screwing a round white plastic thing into the ceiling. “There!” he said triumphantly, descending from the ladder. “I’m all yours!” He turned as both his feet touched the floor. His face changed from a warm smile to a look of deep concern as he took in the demon; still wearing the boxer shorts and Queen vest that he had slept in, hair in disarray, skin flushed, sweat coating his limbs, panic on his face. Aziraphale crossed the space between them quickly, putting an arm out to steady Crowley.

“My dear? Crowley? Are you quite alright?” he asked as the demon leaned into him.   
“M’fine. Ssss’ nothing.” The demon hissed, his eyes half shut as he struggled to breath.  
“Another nightmare?” The angel asked gently. Crowley nodded, his tongue too heavy to speak.  
“I’m here, my love” the angel opened his arms and Crowley collapsed into them gratefully, allowing the angel to scoop him up and set him down on the sofa. “Ssssorry angel” Crowley spoke softly, leaning into the angels’ shoulder, breathing in his scent. Aziraphale rubbed his back gently. “There really is no need to apologise my dear boy, I only wish there was more I could do to help.” His arms were so warm and soft around Crowley that he thought he might melt. His arms tightened around the angels’ body, desperate to keep him close, gulping in the scent of him as if he had forgotten to breathe and was finally surfacing for air. He hated being vulnerable like this but Aziraphale had seen him at his best and his worst and he hadn’t left yet. This thought gave Crowley a small measure of comfort.

He eventually pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “I need a shower angel. I’ll just miracle myself back to my place and then we could go for lunch?” he squinted in the light, trying to read the angels’ face. Aziraphale tutted. “I’m coming with you! Just in case!”   
“Angel... you don’t need to, m’fine now-“  
“Nonsense. I’m coming with you!” the angel cut him off before he could finish. He had that look on his face that meant arguing was futile, so Crowley clicked his fingers and suddenly they were on his black leather sofa. He got up, and was surprised to find the angel following him out of the room. “Angel?” he said, a question in his voice, a dark eyebrow raised. A bashful look came over the angels’ face. “I thought... well” he cleared his throat slightly, “I thought you might need me there, with you... just in case” he was quite red now.   
“Just in case...” Crowley echoed, his throat suddenly dry as he wondered if that was the only motivation the angel had. Judging by the angels’ scarlet cheeks he decided it wasn’t. He entered his cavernous bathroom, holding the door open for the angel, uncertain and suddenly self conscious. He waved his arm as casually as he could, miracling a stool for the angel. Aziraphale sat down and took in the room, face still pink but not giving much away. He closed his eyes and those long lashes brushed his cheeks; those lashes and soft cheeks that drove Crowley wild.

Crowley undressed slowly, awkwardly, hopping as he pulled each sock off- feeling glad that the angel wasn’t watching. He straightened and cupped the angels’ face with one hand. Aziraphales’ eyes fluttered open and met his, sky blue meeting amber. “Can I... can I watch you? My dear?” The angel asked hesitantly. Crowley blushed a very deep shade of red, then leant down to kiss the angel, long and deep. “Didn’t realise that was your thing angel” he said, wiggling an eyebrow as he pulled away. Aziraphales’ cheeks flushed scarlet again. “You could join me instead? If you wanted...”

A look came over the angels’ face, and his eyes left Crowleys’. The demon tried to place the look- it almost looked like shame? But surely not, in all the 6000 years he had known the angel shame was not something he had ever witnessed him feeling. He gently lifted his chin, kneeling at his feet as he did so, aware that he was completely and utterly naked in front of the fully clothed angel. “Talk to me Aziraphale” he said softly, both hands holding the angels’ face level with his.   
“I don’t... I don’t want you to see me... _naked_” the words tumbled from his lips. “Y...You mightn’t like me anymore.” His bottom lip trembled, and Crowley fought the urge to nip it gently with his teeth.   
“We’ve seen each other undressed countless times over the millennia angel, why does it matter now?” His brow furrowed, confusion and concern etched into his face. “It’s different now! Now that we’re... doing... whatever it is we’re doing! Before... I wanted you but I knew I couldn’t... _we _couldn’t... so it didn’t matter if you saw me naked and didn’t desire me... But now...” the words spilled from his lips, as tears spilled down his cheeks. “If...if you saw me _now _and didn’t want me any more... well I don’t know if I could take it. It would break my heart.”

The emotions written across the angels’ face filled Crowley with a million conflicting feelings of his own. He was utterly floored. The angel had always seemed if not confident then at the very least _comfortable_ in himself and his body. What had caused this new discomfort in his physical form? “I’m not going anywhere, Aziraphale. I promise” Crowley spoke gently, thumbs caressing the angels’ soft cheeks. “You could change your form if you wanted, but I love you the way you are now.” He kept his eyes set on Aziraphales’. “How can I convince you that you’re perfect?”

“B-but I’m not, Crowley! I’m _soft” _he burst out exasperated, disgust in his voice as he said the last word. “Since when has _soft _been a bad thing? I love that you are! I always thought you liked this form, you’ve always taken care of it well” His face was still painted with concern as he gazed at the angel. “Did something cause this? He said quieter, after a moment. The angel sniffled, then shook his head.  
“Angel...” Crowley said lower, a hint of an edge in his voice. Aziraphale poked his stomach aggressively, looking down at it as he pinched a bit of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “Alright...” The angel sighed, hesitating before he continued. “It was Gabriel, if you must know. He... he slapped my stomach. And told me to ‘lose the gut’. Just before Armageddon.” He looked so devastated that it made Crowleys’ insides turn to fire. His hands balled into fists and he brought them down to the angels’ lap.

His eyes flashed and his voice was deadly quiet; “How _dare _he? How dare he make you feel like anything other than the divine being you are? They should worship you, like I do. I will _end _him.” He could feel his black wings unfurling and taking form in this plane of existence, hellfire lapping round the edges of the feathers. He could feel scales pushing their way up through the flesh across his body, little patches of gleaming red, gold and black. “That bastard will PAY for the way he has treated you angel. I will rip him limb from limb and burn him with hellfire so hot he will crumble into ashesss where he standsssssss.” The last few words came out as a hiss: he felt his hair unfurl like his wings had, snaking down his back, hazy and somehow on fire, licking its way across his shoulders.

He looked up from their hands, the angels’ pale and delicate next to his fists- serpent scales rippled across them, a deep burnt glow emanating from just below the skin. His eyes met the angels’ and he saw fear in Aziraphales’ tear stained face. Crowley suddenly felt ashamed at losing control so dramatically in front of his angel, and forced himself to calm down. His wings furled closed against his shoulder blades before disappearing, the scales sunk back into his flesh, the orange glow dissipated from beneath his skin, and finally his flaming hair retracted to its’ usual length.

“Forgive me, angel?” he said, imploring, concern written across his face. “I just _hate”_ he spat the word, “how they treated you.” He took the angels’ hands carefully, as if they were made from the most fragile porcelain. “Its’ quite alright, dear. They shan’t any longer” he replied, gripping Crowleys’ hands tight. “Didn’t mean to scare you, though” Crowley mumbled, looking down at their hands again.   
“Scare me? No dear, I was in awe. I had no idea that was your true form.” Crowley raised his eyes to meet the angels’ again. “You are _glorious _my dear. Simply glorious” the angel breathed.   
“Not as glorious as you angel. Never.” Crowley leaned in, releasing the angels’ hands and pulling him in for a kiss. It was a frantic kind of kiss- both pulling each other in closer, as if they were two parts of a whole, desperate to be re-joined. Crowley found himself tugging the angel to his feet as he stood, the kiss growing more heated by the second. He slipped the angels’ jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. He paused and moved back a little from the angel as his hands went to undo the bowtie around his neck, waiting for the angels’ permission. Aziraphale nodded, and that was all Crowley needed to yank the bowtie off and proceed to unbutton his waistcoat.

Aziraphale kissed him this time, hard. But Crowley had other things on his mind, as he broke the kiss and began kissing his way across the angels’ soft jaw, down his neck, a single kiss on the angels’ Adams’ apple before he continued his descent. He unbuttoned the angels’ shirt as he went, slithering down his torso, leaving little bite marks here and there. One hand found one nipple and pinched it, hard, making the angel gasp scandalously. Crowleys’ mouth found the angels’ other nipple, and he nipped it with his teeth, making the angel arch his back. The demons’ forked tongue flicked his nipple to attention, matching the speed of his fingers. He stopped suddenly, before continuing to kiss his way down. As he undid the last few buttons of Aziraphales’ shirt he felt the angel stiffen. He paused and looked back up at the angel for reassurance. “I can stop angel, if you’re not ready” Crowley said softly.  
“No, no... please... please don’t stop Crowley” the demon shivered at the way the angel had almost whispered his name.

Crowley pulled his shirt open gently, kissing the angels’ soft, round stomach tenderly, marvelling at the shape- how it curved so perfectly, and felt so firm beneath his hands. He curled the delicate white-blond hairs that trailed up from the angels’ waistband in his fingers, tendering kissing all the way from one side of his hips to the other. He glanced up at the angel. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted slightly in pleasure. Crowley undid the flies of the angels’ trousers, still watching the angels’ face, waiting to see if the angel objected. No objection came, so he slid his trousers down. He wrinkled his nose at the yellow tartan boxers the angel was wearing. “Tartan, angel? Really?” He couldn’t help it.   
“Tartan is s- ” the angel started to answer.  
“Don’t say _stylish_!” Crowley interrupted.  
“I was going to say _sexy,_” the angel huffed. The demon rolled his eyes, clutching his sides as he giggled. “Sexy?! Pfftttt”   
“Oh hush. Or I shan’t get in the shower with you!” Aziraphale crossed his arms, scowling a little, but the twinkle in his eyes told Crowley he wasn’t serious. “bit hard to take you seriously with your trousers round your ankles, angel!” He giggled, and the angel scrunched his nose up at him.   
“You’re the one who is naked my dear!” the angel gave him a salacious grin, his eyes slowly meeting Crowleys’, but not before taking the rest of him in. The demon pulled down the angels’ boxers, making his erection bounce as it was freed from the fabric.

Crowley gazed at him in wonder; the swell of the angels’ stomach, the thick curve of his cock, the sprinkling of golden hairs, the soft thighs. “You’re beautiful angel” he breathed between kisses. He felt the angel wiggle a bit, so he stopped his kissing, straightening up to come nose to nose with the angel. “Everything alright?” he asked.  
“It’s just... well. I’ve never been called _beautiful _before” he flushed pink.  
“I’ll tell you every day for the rest of eternity angel.” He ran his hands down the angels’ back, tracing tiny circles across his hips, fingers swirling across the angels’ stomach. Aziraphale wiggled again, a good wiggle. Crowley took his hand, leading him into the shower. One hand fumbled for the shower dial as the angel closed the door behind them. As Crowley turned to face the angel he found himself being pushed into the cold grey tiles, water obscuring his vision. He gasped at the sensation of the cool tiles on his back, but it was caught by Aziraphales’ mouth as his lips hungrily met his own.

He slid down the wall, breaking the kiss so that he could kiss the angels’ erection before gently taking it into his mouth. He had dreamed about this for so long and here he was, finally able to taste the angel the way he had wanted to for millennia. His wicked tongue dragged slowly over the length of him and he felt the angel shiver with pleasure. He gripped the angels’ hips, guiding him to thrust into his mouth. His hands found the angels’ backside, plump and firm in his grip as his nails left little marks in his flesh. Aziraphale moaned and one hand wound into Crowleys’ red hair as the other braced against the wall. He gasped as Crowley picked up the pace, guiding his thrusts harder and deeper into his mouth. His tongue traced devilish patterns across the head, and every movement made the angel gasp and grasp his hair tighter until he couldn’t take it anymore. He called out Crowleys’ name and exploded in his mouth. “Such a good demon” he panted. Crowley released him with a small pop.  
“Only for you, angel.” He gazed up at the angel in awe, fire in his amber eyes.

Aziraphale pulled him up, the hot jets of water making them both blink rapidly. Before Crowley could think the angel was sliding down to his knees, pressing Crowleys’ back against the cool tiles, to take him into his mouth. He was hard, desperate for the angels’ touch. It was just how he had imagined it, and yet better in every way. His fingers curled in the angels’ damp locks, and he gasped as the angel took all of him at once. W_here did Aziraphale learn to do that??_ He found himself wondering, before his thoughts evaporated into the steam of the shower, lost in pleasure. He gripped the back of the angels’ head, lightly, and found himself fucking the angels’ perfect mouth, the ecstasy building. He almost came on the spot as he felt soft fingers caressing his hole. He found himself wondering for the second time where the angel had learned to do that. “You’re... a _bad _angel” he panted, trying to pull back from the brink. Aziraphale slid a wet finger a fraction inside him just as he thrust harder into the angels’ mouth and he came then, collapsing back against the wall as he gasped for breath.

Crowley leant down and hungrily kissed the angel, the taste of both of them mingling on each others lips. He pulled the angel up and they stood there under the hot stream of water, kissing tenderly for what felt like an eternity.


	16. An Angel Statue and Tartan Trousers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just self indulgent fluff, because I'm lonely lmao.  
I hope y'all are read for some DRAMA though...  
(Side Note: a Whippy is a Mr.Whippy- a soft serve ice cream popular in the UK)

They stayed like that for a while, caressing each other and getting to know each others bodies intimately for the first time. They had both known the others’ souls for millennia, but this was new- unexplored territory. Aziraphale marvelled at how, despite all the angles and jutting edges of Crowleys’ body, he still felt so soft and gentle as he melted into the angels’ arms. Crowley was meanwhile marvelling at how Aziraphale could be so soft and yet so firm, a strength beneath the flesh hidden by the round curves and contours of his body.

Aziraphale wondered, for the millionth time, how he could have been so silly as to miss all the decidedly un-subtle hints Crowley had dropped for all this time. He noticed how reverently Crowley touched him, so gentle and hesitant, like he was scared Aziraphale might break. No, it was more than that- it felt like how God must feel when She was being worshipped. He could feel the raw love seeping from him, emanating from within the demons’ soul. It washed over him like a gentle tide, never threatening to drown him, promising to carry him for eternity. The angel sighed into the demons’ wet red hair, fingers tracing down his back as Crowleys’ own fingers followed the contours of his curves so slowly it was like he was committing them to memory.

“Should we... get out now, angel?” Crowley broke the silence, moving to turn off the shower.  
“Oh, well I suppose... but we needn’t get dressed just yet my dear” Aziraphale replied with a cheeky grin, secretly very pleased that it was so easy to make the demon blush. Especially given the interesting fact that it wasn’t just Crowleys’ face that flushed red. He miracled them both a thick white towel as they emerged from the steamy shower and into the frigid air of the bathroom. Aziraphale had just finished tying his towel around his waist when Crowley suddenly grabbed him by the hips, pulling him in for a kiss, a hand lifting his chin gently up towards Crowleys’ face.

They stumbled backwards through the bathroom door, still kissing, when Aziraphale noticed a strange statue out of the corner of his eye. He pulled away from the demon, and walked towards it. _What is that? Are they? Oh my, _the angel found himself thinking, his turn to blush a deep shade of scarlet. He turned to look at Crowley who was, somehow, an even deeper shade of red than he felt. “Crowley? Just what is that?” He asked, as he took in the sculpture. It appeared to be two angels, one with darker hair and wings- _oh, a demon then? _he thought- forcing a golden haired and winged angel down.“Uh...Art” came Crowleys’ response, barely a croak.  
“Well I can see that. I mean... what is it depicting, dear boy?” His eyes searched Crowleys’ embarrassed red face for answers.   
“It’s... uh... good and evil... wrestling. With...uh... evil triumphing, angel” he stuttered, his eyes refusing to meet the angels’.   
“Are you quite certain that they are... um...” he paused, eyebrows knitting together, “Wrestling?” The demon went even redder somehow, and Aziraphale knew that ‘_wrestling’ _had not exactly been on Crowleys’ mind when he had put it in his flat.

“Of course they’re uh... _wrestling _angel, that’s very clearly a wrestling move, like we saw the gladiators use... in Rome... at the uh... bathhouses...” Crowley stuttered, and Aziraphale remembered how endearing he had always found that stutter. Crowley only usually stuttered for three reasons- when he was shocked, nervous, or very drunk. They hadn’t been drinking, and this wasn’t a surprise- they were in his flat after all- so that meant he was nervous, embarrassed most likely that the angel had seen this very suggestive piece of art. It was very clearly supposed to be the two of them, of that he was sure. Aziraphale pulled the demon in close, leant in to his ear, and whispered “you really needn’t be so _shy _my dear. It is quite a beautiful rendition. But I think we both know that evil is only triumphing because good is _letting _him.” He felt Crowley shiver, his whole body trembling. Crowley gulped.  
“Angel?... Aziraphale...” his voice was hoarse.  
“Yes dear?”  
“Does that mean you want to?...” he broke off, uncertain. Aziraphale kissed Crowleys’ neck so lightly it made the demon wonder if he had imagined it.   
“Well of course dear, but I think you should take me to lunch first. I’m feeling rather peckish!” he turned on his heel and strode towards the bedroom, leaving Crowley to look both embarrassed and stunned next to the sculpture, jaw hanging.

Crowley entered the bedroom meekly. Aziraphale couldn’t help but turn to observe him, as he rummaged through his wardrobe, the towel still wrapped tightly round his hips, exposing his midriff. He watched as Crowley tutted and moved hangers around, his eyes lingering on the demons’ bottom a little longer than necessary. “You know, angel, I have some clothes here that I picked out for you ages ago. I never gave them to you, ‘cos you’re so attached to your clothes, but... maybe... you could give them a go?” Crowley sounded hesitant, and Aziraphale was curious to see what the demon had picked out for him so he replied “Well I suppose if you went to all the trouble of buying me something I can at least try it on, my dear.” Crowley straightened up, and handed the angel a large sky-blue box with a cream ribbon around it, a bashful look crossing his face.

Aziraphale handled the box delicately, pulling the bow undone and allowing the ribbon to pool onto the bed as he lifted the lid. Underneath a layer of tissue paper sat an incredibly soft grey shirt, with a modern cut and collar and silver buttons embellished with tiny snakes. He lifted it gently out of the box to find an eggshell blue thick jumper, in a chunky knit underneath. He sighed as he felt how soft the wool was against his hands. He gasped as he realised there was still more in the box- a pair of light grey jeans sat at the bottom. He wrinkled his nose. “Jeans, darling? Really?”

“I just... I always wanted to see your arse in a pair of jeans...” he went bright red. “They aren’t as tight as mine though, I promise! I had your tailor make them to your usual measurements!” He looked at the angel anxiously, biting his lip. Aziraphale gave them a once over. The denim wasn’t rough at all, the pockets were deep, and they did look rather smart, he thought. “You went to my tailor?” he asked, raising a perfect blond eyebrow. “He’s my tailor too! How do you think I get my clothes to fit so well?”  
“Oh, I just assumed you miracled your clothes that way...” the angel said sheepishly. “He does have a way with the needle though doesn’t he?” he said, breaking into a wide smile. Crowley nodded then gestured at the clothes. “I uh... I didn’t bother with a bowtie, I know how attached you are to yours. But...I hope you like them...” He looked nervous.  
“When you told me you picked clothes I assumed you meant something... sexy... or... more to your tastes, my dear” The angel chuckled, going pink.  
“I thought these things would suit you, angel. The jeans are something a bit out of character, but I chose the shirt and jumper because I thought you’d look comfy... and warm... but still like _you._ I don’t want to change you, angel. Never.” Aziraphale blushed all over, and got up to dress. He turned, and Crowley did too, to finish selecting his own outfit. When he turned back Aziraphale was a vision, the colour scheme complimenting his blue-grey eyes, the clothes flattering his shape perfectly. The angel was examining the clothes, straining to see how his bottom looked indiscreetly. “I must say these are rather more comfortable than my usual clothes, but still quite stylish!” he proclaimed, looking up at Crowley. The demon grinned, as Aziraphales’ jaw dropped.

Crowley had dug out his red tartan trousers, from back in his punk days, complete with chains and belts and as tight as his usual fare. He had a matching scarf slung loosely round his neck over his usual black waistcoat, with a fitted dark grey shirt underneath that was unbuttoned rather more than necessary. Aziraphale gulped. His cheeks were positively glowing. He had never seen the demon in tartan before, and he had to admit he looked absolutely ravishing. “Like it, angel?” He asked, grin impossibly wide. Aziraphale nodded, finding himself a little lost for words. “Thank you for the clothes my dear, they are lovely. And you... you look...” he broke off, biting his lip as he struggled to find the words to describe how Crowley looked in those tight, tartan trousers.  
“You should have seen me when I was punk angel. Tartan everywhere and my mohawk was the envy of Camden” he bragged, puffing his chest a little. The angel giggled, and reached out to grab the demon by his scarf, pulling him in close. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out after all...” he pulled the demon into a kiss.  
“Hey now, you’re the one who said you were hungry angel!” Crowley laughed, pulling back a little. The angel pouted.  
“We could _order_ food my dear” he whined.  
“Yesss, but don’t you want to show me off, angel?” The demon grinned wickedly, winking at him.  
“Well yes, I suppose. You _do _look rather good in tartan” he huffed, still pouting.

Half an hour later they were strolling through St James Park, arm in arm. “Have you decided what you want to eat yet, angel?” Crowley asked, slyly pinching the angels’ bottom as they approached their usual bench. “I’m _thinking _dear, don’t rush me!” The angel tutted, discreetly smacking the demons’ bottom very lightly in return. “Want a Whippy while you think then?” Crowley offered, as the angel sat in their usual spot opposite the pond. “Oooh yes please!” Aziraphale answered, with a wiggle. The demon made his way over to the ice cream stand, but as he neared it he felt a shiver run down his spine. The hairs on his arms and neck rose, and that’s when he felt them. Angels. And demons. Surrounding them.


	17. Enemies Above and Below Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm rubbish at writing fight scenes, but I gave it my best shot. This fic ended up going in a much more dramatic direction than I originally intended, but anyway, enjoy!

He turned, slowly. He shrugged as if he was out of money, not wanting them to know he was onto them. Suddenly Sandalphon was in front of him. “Filthy demon. Corrupting one of Gods’ own. Have you no shame?” he blocked the way back to Aziraphale. “I have so been looking forward to smiting you” the angel grinned, showing huge, ugly, silver capped teeth.

Aziraphale had been watching the ducks when he felt the disturbance. Before he could blink the demon Dagon was sitting next to him. “Imagine. A demon tempting one of Gods’ Principalities. If Crowley hadn’t stopped the Apocalypse with you that would have gotten him a promotion.” The demon tutted. “such a shame, it would have really wound up Hastur- I’ve always found him a bit dry. No sense of humour.”

“Who are you, and what do you want” Crowley hissed, narrowing his eyes. Best not to show he recognised the angel. Sandalphons’ grin widened. “Sandalphon. I’m here to smite you.” An angel of few words then. “Fraid I’ll have to disappoint you then mate” Crowley said, clicking his fingers. Time froze and his wings burst from his back. He leapt into the air and landed squarely in front of the frozen demon and Aziraphale- who wasn’t frozen. “Angel! You okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine dear, but you can’t keep an angel and a demon frozen for much longer, don’t strain yourself” he could see the sweat sliding down Crowleys’ face.  
“We need a miracle to get all the humans here away in time angel” Crowley said through gritted teeth. Aziraphale nodded, standing and smoothing his clothes down, frowning in concentration.   
“Done my dear! Now unfreeze time and we’ll deal with them!” he said as he clicked his neck.   
“Are you sure you want to fight? We can escape, you don’t need to resort to violence” Crowley looked at the angel with concern.   
“Nonsense, they’ll just keep following us and endangering humans if we run away my love.” Crowley nodded, and as Aziraphale took his hand he released time.

Dagon and Sandalphon looked confused for a second, realising what had happened. They advanced, and Crowley felt the presence of another demon and angel behind them. Lower level, less of a threat. Aziraphales’ wings shot out and his flaming sword manifested in his free hand, igniting with white flames. Crowley thought hard for a second, and suddenly he had a flaming whip in his hand, the handle shaped like a snake. _Not exactly subtle, but it’ll do _he thought. The two angels and two demons sprang at them, swords of their own in hand, but none of them burning with holy or infernal fire. Crowleys’ whip cracked across Sandalphons’ wide face, the hellfire burning a huge scar where it touched. Their wings burst forth and eyes sprang out all over their form. Crowley unleashed his demonic form, the hellfire burning from within him as scales rippled out across him, hair unfurling, the edges of his wings and hair aflame.

He felt a rush of energy and a jolt through his palm as Aziraphale unleashed his true angelic form. White hot holy fire emanated from his core, bright blue eyes erupting across him, their piercing gaze inescapable. The angels’ wings glowed blue at the edges, as did his hair, and two extra pairs of wings burst from his back. He would have stood back in amazement at his angels’ true form if they weren’t in the midst of a fight. The two angels came straight for Aziraphale, trying to stab him through the heart, but with a flap of his huge midnight wings Crowley was in front of him, his whip snatching the swords from their grasp. He snapped open a wing, sending the angels tumbling across the park with a huge gust of air. As the two demons charged at Crowley Aziraphale blasted them with a beam of holy light straight from his free palm, the blue eye in its centre snapping shut and ending the beam as the demons sizzled.

“Angel! Higher ground!” Crowley called out, and Aziraphale nodded as they flew into the clouds. Crowley span in the air as he heard Aziraphale cry out in pain behind him. Dagon had stabbed him through the chest, and the angels’ many eyes were blinking in shock. Crowley launched himself at Dagon, grappling with them as they both tumbled through the clouds. Dagons’ wings were weak, sickly looking things and Crowley grabbed them both, wrenching them sharply until he heard the frail bones snap. Dagon screeched and tried to claw at Crowleys’ face but he had other ideas. “I’d say this isn’t personal... but you just hurt _my_ angel, and _that _is unforgivable” he growled. Crowley continued to twist the other demons’ wings until he heard another snap, then kicked Dagon square in the chest, releasing his grip as he did so. Dagon fell, still screeching and desperately trying to flap their pathetic wings, arms outstretched. Crowley didn’t even bother to watch them fall- he needed to get back to his angel.

Aziraphale was bleeding badly but still above him, sword ringing out as it clashed with the other angels. Crowley watched as Aziraphale raked his flaming sword across the other angels’ body, still exhibiting that perfect fencing form despite his injury. Crowley had always fought dirty, but not Aziraphale. Sandalphon burst from the clouds above his angel, but Crowley saw him and sprang up, colliding with the bulkier angel hard. They grappled in the air, Sandalphons’ silver teeth flashing in the light. Aziraphale had his blade at the other angels’ throat, forcing them to surrender. He rose up, his six wings labouring a little from all the cuts that wept across them. “Sandalphon is mine!” he called, his voice ringing clearly through the clouds. Crowley let go of the bigger angel and flew down to the wingless demon waiting on the ground.

“C’mon then! Come and ‘ave a go if you think you’re ‘ard enough!” he called out to the demon as he landed. The demon looked nervous but charged at Crowley all the same. Crowley tucked his wings in and ducked under the nameless demons’ swing, dodging every punch that was thrown at him effortlessly. He threw a punch of his own that connected with the demons’ jaw with a sickening crunch. The hellfire within Crowley surged out, blasting the other demon off their feet, eyes wide. Crowley gasped as he felt a blade slip into his right wing, slicing through it as if it were made of paper. He span dizzily, to see Dagon grinning, bloodstained blade in hand. Crowley hissed in pain, then ducked as Aziraphale flung his sword down, hitting Dagon straight in the chest, the holy fire burning them. They screamed, and Crowley watched as Dagons’ essence clawed its way out of the burning, broken flesh and crawled back into the ground, a vague shadow.

Crowley looked up to see Aziraphale tangled with Sandalphon. It looked as if the other angel had just gained the upper hand, Aziraphale looking tired as he struggled with them. Sandalphon was grinning widely, until Crowleys’ whip snagged their ankle, dragging them rapidly towards the ground. Crowley flicked his wrist and Sandalphon hit the ground, hard. “That’s what you get... for threatening and mistreating MY angel!” Crowley spat, kicking them, hard. He flicked the whip again, and it landed across the angel, the hellfire burning into them. He brought the whip down again. “_That _is for Sodom and Gomorrah” he brought the whip down again. “And. All. Those. Children.” Each word punctuated with a crack of the flaming whip. The hellfire spread across Sandalphons’ body, and the angel ceased to exist.

“C-Crowley!” his angel called out. Crowley glanced upwards to see Aziraphale tumbling from the sky. The demon opened out his damaged, bleeding wings and leapt into the air, catching the angel as he fell. His left wing was broken, and the best he could do was open them out to slow their descent. He hit the grass harder than he intended, staggering but managing to stay upright and keep hold of the angel in his arms. He struggled across the grass towards the huge gates of the park, dragging his broken wing behind him, the other curled tight to his body.

Aziraphales’ wings were folded against him, miraculously not hindering the demon as he carried him out of the park and up the grey concrete steps to the Bentley. Somehow the unconscious angel and his six wings fit in the back of the car, as Crowley gently bundled him in. He flung himself into the passenger seat and with a wave of his hand the Bentley roared to life, driving itself back to the bookshop. No music played during the short drive, and when the Bentley pulled up outside the bookshop it honked its horn, the noise waking Crowley from his daze.

He scrambled out of the car, wings still out. Somehow nobody on the busy Soho street noticed a bloodstained man with huge black wings carrying a bleeding six-winged man through the doors of the bookshop. Crowley didn’t remember that miracle, but it must have been his doing. He willed all the blankets and pillows in the flat onto the floor of the bookshop, laying out the angel as gently as he could on top of them. “Angel... Angel! Stay with me” Crowley moaned softly, as he miracled the angels’ shirt and jumper away to examine his wounds. The wound in his chest was gently oozing blood- the sword had barely missed the angels’ heart, and despite his angelic healing powers it still looked nasty. Aziraphale moaned almost inaudibly as Crowley wiped the sweat from his brow.

Crowley got up, stumbling through the shop, the broken wing dragging behind him. He almost fell as he searched the kitchen for a first aid kit and a bowl for water; hauling himself up he leaned on the counter, leaving bloody handprints. Half delirious from his injuries he staggered back to the angel, falling to his knees next to him, miracling the spilled water back into the bowl with the tiniest wave of his hand. Crowley blinked away tears as he washed the blood away, desperately trying to stop himself from shaking as he stitched up Aziraphale. He mumbled “I love you angel, don’t leave me, you’re my best friend” over and over, barely audible as he treated each wound. He had almost lost the angel too many times now for this to be the end, he thought as he watched the angels’ ragged breathing.

Crowley rubbed ointments and balms onto each cut tenderly once he had washed and stitched them, adding as much of his power as he could into the healing. He managed to cover the angel with a blanket, then his head began to swim. He had poured too much of his own energy into healing the angel. He could see stars. “Angel...” he gasped, slumping to the floor. He saw the angels’ face next to his. Then, nothing.


End file.
